Power of the Ring
by Myridd
Summary: Darrian Tabris is an unlikely hero, torn from his home after avenging the honor of his cousin, and thrust head first into the fight against the Blight. His thoughts on this? "I should of stayed in bed."
1. Chapter 1

Dragon Age Origins : Original Fan-Fiction

Power of the Ring

Chapter One: The Reluctant Groom

It was a lovely day in the Alienage in Denerim, most of the elves were already up and about celebrating. For today there was to be a wedding, a double wedding in fact. It would mean new blood for the Alienage, it would mean a day to forget the troubles and difficulties of the oppressive life most lived within the Alienage's walls.

Inside a worn down house, Darrian Tabris slept as dead as a stone, his mouth wide open and one leg slipping from beneath the covers and off of the bed. Dead to the world, and unaware that the day he had been dreading had finally arrived.

"Cousin?" A soft voice called, tinged with a bit of micheviousness. Darrian just mumbled in his sleep, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Oh, Cousin!" The voice called a little bit louder, footsteps drawing closer. Still, Darrian did not seem to noticed, and if he had noticed, he was quite adept at ignoring the voice.

He did not feel the gentle pressure of hands on the sheet underneath him, nor did he see the smirk that graced his cousin's lips as she hefted the sheet out from under Darrian and sent him crashing to the floor.

"Yaa-aaaaahH!" Darrian shouted as he was forcefully awoken, limbs flailing as he was sent through the air only to land ungracefully on his ass. "Damn it, Shianni, was that necessary?" He grumbled, his eyes narrowed as he looked up at his cousin.

Wearing a satisfied smile, Shianni nodded. "Your father sent me to get you up. The way you sleep you're likely to miss the whole thing."

"What whole thing?" He asked, standing and rubbing where his hip had hit the floor. Darrian had begun to stretch when Shianni's reply knocked the wind out of him.

"Your wedding."

He let out a deep and resentful groan, than climbed back into bed, drawing the covers over his head. "Its not until tomorrow... Let me have a day of rest, will you?"

Shianni whipped these covers away from him as well. "The brides have arrived early. The wedding's today."

"I'm not going." Darrian stated simply, covering his flame red hair with a pillow as he rolled to face the wall.

"Come on, Cousin, its a day to celebrate!" Shianni leaned over him, shaking his shoulder. It was than the scent of wine hit his nostrils. His cousin had been drinking.

"Than celebrate. You've already started anyhow." He mumbled, still trying to drown out his inevitable future.

"Nevermind that, I've seen your bride. Soris's too. He's green with envy." Shianni smirked.

Darrian's ears perked up at the thought of Soris being jealous. He sat up and finally looked at Shianni. "So what, she's not a total cow than?"

Shianni chuckled, shaking her head. "Of course not cousin! Your bride to be is quite beautiful. Soris said she was. . . what were his words? Oh yes! A dream come true."

The elf scratched his jaw as he contemplated. Maybe this wasn't a total loss. At least he wouldn't be like that elvish woman Elva who was stuck with a waste of an elf as a husband."What about Soris? What about his bride?"

Shianni glanced away, attempting not to giggle. "She's. . . very nice. Lets just say you're lucky you have your father who was able to pay for a proper bride. Anyway, you're up. You should round up Soris and go and meet your bethroved. At least get a glimpse of her before the big day?" She sighed, looking wistful. "I wish it was my big day.."

"Than you marry her." Darrian retorted, glancing back at his bed as though considering the idea of climbing back into it. His cousin chuckled, shaking her head.

"You're not getting out of it, Cousin. Now get dressed, be a man." Shianni winked, than left his room.

Darrian sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Why is my manhood based on this marriage? "Bah!" He grumbled, kicking out his foot and hitting his toe hard on his wooden bed frame. Cursing under his breath he removed his sleeping clothes and began to open drawers of his beat up old dresser. "Clothes, clothes, clothes. . " He mumbled, digging through the drawer. It took a moment before he noticed the clothes hanging on a nail in the wall. They were the finest garments he had ever seen, nicely tailored and made of soft silks with thick golden thread. He thumbed the material, looking at it in wedding clothes, I suppose. Well, my father does have good taste.

In a few moments he was dressed, looking rather dapper in those fine wedding clothes and his finest soft leather boots.

"Ah, you're dressed. Good." His father greeted him as he left his room. Darrian shot the man a rather cross look. "What? You don't like the clothes?" His father asked, feigning surprise.

"The clothes are fine. Its the reason for them." Darrian mumbled, acting a bit like a brat as he brooded. "Do I really have to go through with this? Can't just Soris get hitched?"

Cyrion shook his head at his only child, not disappointed but understanding. "Its a right of passage, son. Its a new beginning for you. You should be proud." The older elf furrowed his brow as he appraised his son. "I did my best to find you a bride to be proud of." He added, a hurt tone in his voice.

The young Tabris sighed, hiding his face in one of his palms. "I know, I know. Its just. . Not what I pictured. After hearing about how you and mother met.. an arrangement seems less than ideal..." Cyrion smiled understandingly as he placed a firm hand on Darrian's shoulder.

"I know son. I know."He said wistfully, thinking of Adaia,his deceased beloved, and how much he missed her. "Your mother would of had nothing to do with such an arrangement either. You are very much like her."

Darrian looked at his father, noticing the wistful glimmer in Cyrion's eyes, and a smile danced on his lips. "You've always said that. That I remind you of her with my sneaky sneaky ways." In response, Cyrion chuckled.

"I don't think I ever put it that way, boy, but yes. Its true. She taught you her skills well." He looked pained for a moment, his eyes darting to the doorway, than back to Darrian. "Perhaps. . it would be best to keep those skills between us, hmm?"

Darrian raised an eyebrow in confusion before comprehension dawned on him. "My bride to be doesn't know. And it could cause trouble if it was known that there was an elf good with a blade within the Alienage." He responded quietly, his head hung in despair. "Don't worry. I doubt it will come up. I've kept it hidden thus far, haven't I?"

"True, except for when you almost got caught picking the pocket of that noble lady who came through here." Cyrion added, his tone sharp and disapproving.

"She took those coppers from those hungry children! They would of had no supper if I hadn't dealt with that shemlen!" Darrian spit angrily, tightening his fists at his side.

Cyrion's gaze softened. "I know, Darrian. Now, enough of this. Go fetch Soris and lets start the celebration, hmm?"

Darrian sighed, a rather pathetic look crossing his face. "Do I have to?"

"Enough of the complaining, Darrian. Your bride to be is quite beautiful. And talented too. You will have a good future together, its all I can do for you."

_All I can do for you _

Those words echoed in Darrian's mind, ever since his mother was murdered by some filthy shemlens, his father had done everything he could for Darrian. He did remarkably well, considering how life could be in the Alienage. The young elf's brow furrowed, his devotion to his father fighting against his good sense.

"All right. Might as well get this over with. At least she's good looking." Darrian shrugged as he commented offhandedly, trying to give the impression that his father's words had not influenced his decision.

Cyrion smiled, lines crinkling by his eyes and the corners of his mouth as he watched his son depart the house.

"You're a brave boy, meant for better than this." He said to himself, his smile fading as Darrian left the house. "If only your mother was here. ."

Outside Darrian was greeted by other Alienage residents, wanting to take his hand and congratulate him on his big day. He put on a brave face, nodded quite a bit, though he wasn't quite sure what most of them were saying_. Gah, I'm glad I only have to go through with this once. I don't even think I knew the last guy.. _Darrian shook his hand in the air, trying to ease the stiffness that was caused by all those greetings. He turned to walk towards the Alienage's entrance, one of Soris's favorite haunts, when he heard some rambunctious laughter coming from an alleyway.

There was a small group of elves, he recognized the lot, they were the only ones that drank more than his cousin Shianni. At least she seemed to keep it to celebrations. The three men wobbled on their feet, raising their respective glasses and bottles in greetings as Darrian approached.

"Happy Birthday!" The one of the left cried out, shooting his hand in the air and spilling cheap ale down his front.

"You idiot, its not his birthday!" The middle one chastised, raising a hand to smack the back of his companion's head, but stopped midway through. "Wait. Is it?"

The last one shrugged, "We're celebratin' sumthin, ain't we?"

Darrian watched them for a moment, an amused smirk on his lips. "Certainly you are. But its not my birthday."

"Wha? than why are we drinkin'!" The left one cried out, looking strickin.

"Its my wedding day."

"OOOOOOOOOHHHHH" All three said in unison, than shooting nervous glances at each other.

"Aren't we.. supposed ya know..." The one on the right asked. "Ma pa said he got gifts on his weddin' day. . "

Darrian's smirk widened, and he resembled a cat who had ate a canary. "Indeed. And you three are fine, upstanding gentlemen. Certainly you wouldn't ignore such a tradition?" His voice took on a soothing, manipulative tone, the same tone he usually reserved for manipulating shemlen.

"Of course not!"

"We'd never!"

"Its just. . . . " They eyed each other again, than the spark of an idea lit in the middle one's eyes. "We thought money woulda been better. So ya can spend it how ya please."

The other two nodded in assent. "We have..." They took a quick tally of the coin between them. "We've got thirty bits. A good bit of coin, eh?"

Darrian crossed his arms, looking down his nose at them and sniffing in disgust. "Only thirty? I suppose it will do, though forty is that is usually expected in these affairs."

He than sighed heavily, glancing away as if he had been wounded.

The three drunkards exchanged glances nervously. "Ah. . 'ere. This oughta cover it than. Forty bits."

He couldn't help but smirk as his back was still to them, his face taking on a look of gratitude as he turned towards them and took the coin. "Thank you good sirs." Darrian than left them to their drinking, slipping the coin into his pouch. _Well, maybe there is a plus to this wedding business after all_. He thought as he continued down the path. It wasn't long before he came to the giant tree that grew in the middle of the Alienage. He stared up at it, wondering momentarily if it felt trapped like he did.

"Darrian?" A voice called to him, tenatively. He turned his head to see an older elven couple he did not recognize. He stepped towards them. "Yes? I'm sorry, but have we met?"

"I am Dilwyn, and this is my husband Gethon." The gray haired lady said, her eyes smiling. "We were friends of your mother's."

Gethon nodded, smiling kindly. "You look very much like her. We have been looking forward to this day."

"You. . knew Mother?" Darrian asked tentatively, unsure of if he had heard them right. He had never met a friend of hers from outside the Alienage.

Dilwyn nodded, and Gethon placed a hand on Darrian's shoulder. "Sure did. We've been saving a bit, for this day. We want you to have this." He placed a small coin purse in Darrian's hand.

Hardly noticing the weight of a sizeable amount of coin, Darrian continued to stare at Dilwyn and Gethon. "Can you tell me about her?" He asked.

"After the ceremony, we promise."

Darrian sighed, slipping the coin purse in his pocket. "I'll hold you to that." The couple chuckled as Darrian walked off.

Shortly after that, he stumbled across his cousin Soris. His darked haired cousin was looking rather glum when Darrian walked up to him.

"Ah, you're here. Shianni finally woke you?" Soris asked, the chuckle in his voice made Darrian sure that Shianni had already told Soris how she had woken Darrian up.

He rubbed his sore bum, grimacing. "Unfortunately. Wish I could've just slept through today."

"You and me both." Soris said with a shrug. "Your father wouldn't stand for it, though. He'd of dragged you out and strung you up like a scarecrow for the ceremony."

Darrian chuckled, picturing it. "That would be a laugh." After a moment he caught his cousin's eye. "So, Shianni says you've met them?"

Soris sighed deeply, his shoulders falling. "Yes, saw them arrive. You're a lucky guy, Darrian. Always have been."

He clapped Soris on the shoulder, a grin on his lips. "Its not luck, Cousin. Its skill." Soris pushed Darrian's hand off his shoulder.

"Your skill had nothing to do with this. Your father's money did. I have to deal with whoever the hahren could find for me."

"Yeah. . . I've heard." Darrian covered his mouth to stop from bursting out laughing. "Shianni says. . . she's nice? That's something?" Though he had been trying to reassure his cousin, Darrian failed miserably and Soris shot him a cold look and shoved his shoulder slightly.

"Yeah, she's nice. Come on, you should meet them." Soris said crossly.

"Can't I just wait for the ceremony? Enjoy my last moments of freedom?" Darrian asked, hopefully.

"Nope. Come on." Soris seized him by the arm and dragged him away. "Its not like I want to get married either. But its our duty. And if I have to do it, so do you."

"You've always like to share the misery, Soris." Darrian mumbled as Soris led him away.

"Oh! Soris!" An unknown female voice called, and the sound of quick footsteps warned of an approach. Darrian and Soris turned to see two elven lasses, one who dark haired whose looks reminded Darrian of a rabbit. The other was a graceful blonde, and Darrian couldn't help but smile as they were introduced.

"Darrian, this is Valora, my bride to be." Soris said as Valora bowed respectfully, giving Darrian a smile. "And this.." The blonde stepped forward, eyeing Darrian appreciatively, obviously enjoying what she was seeing. "Is Nesiara."

"I've heard a lot about you, Darrian. I am glad I've finally gotten to meet you." Nesiara said softly, fluttering her eyelashes. In response, Darrian reached out and took her hand, bringing the tips of her fingers to his lips and causing her face to go cherry red.

"Good things, I trust?"

"Of course, but they seem not to of done you justice." Nesiara said sounding pleased.

Valora giggled. "Come on Soris, lets let them talk a bit?" She pulled her groom off to the side and left Nesiara and Darrian with only each other as company.

"How was your trip? You are from Highever, right?" Darrian asked sounding genuinely curious.

His soon to be bride nodded. "It went well. I was travelling with a caravan that didn't have much, so the bandits were uninterested."

"Thank the Maker for that."

"Um... Cousin?" Soris asked out of the corner of his mouth. "Shouldn't we.. you know.. be going? To get ready?" It was quite obvious Soris was not comfortable, and was eager to get away. Before Darrian could reply that he wanted to see Soris suffer, Shianni came walking up the road.

"I'm here to collect the girls. We've got to get ready." Shianni said, surpressing a giggle when she saw Soris's relieved face.

"I'll see you at the ceremony Darrian.." Nesiara smiled as she gave him an alluring glance.

"What's this? A party?" A harsh male voice said loudly from behind them.

"Uh oh." Soris muttered as they all turned to see Bann Vaughn, the son of the Arl of Denerim, heading towards them. He was flanked by a pair of greedy eyed young nobles.

"Shemlen." Darrian muttered, narrowing his eyes in hatred.

"All these knife ears, out and about celebrating. Quite the sight. Am I to be entertained as well?" He asked, eyeing Shianni and the other girls in a way that made even innocent onlookers feel uncomfortable.

"Please, Ser, its a wedding. . ." Soris pleaded meekly.

"It's a party, isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time!" Vaughn chuckled nastily and his companions joined in.

"This party isn't for you." Darrian said, stepping up to Vaughn and staring straight up into the human noble's eyes. "I'd suggest leaving."

"You know elves, every now and then they get this idea in their heads that they're people." Vaughn growled, than reached out and grabbed Shianni by the wrist.

"Let go of me, filthy Shemlen!" Shianni cried out, wrenching her arm out of his grasp.

"She's got spirit, fellas!" Vaughn said with a sick sort of pleasure. He reached out to grab Nesiara this time, but Darrian smacked his hand away.

"Your attentions are unwanted, shemlen bastard!" Darrian warned in a cold, hard voice. Behind him Soris hid his face in his hands, knowing this could not end well.

"You should learn respect, boy!" Vaughn raised his hand to strike Darrian, but instead there was a loud crash and Vaughn fell to the floor. Behind him stood Shianni, holding the remnants of the wine bottle she had broken on the back of his skull.

The other two nobles gasped and hoisted Vaughn up on their shoulders, retreating out of the Alienage.

"Shianni, what have you done!" Soris cried as Darrian remarked "Nice shot."

"That was Vaughn! The Arl's son!"

Shianni's face went pale and the rest of the bottle slipped from her grasp. "Oh no..."

Darrian threw an arm around Shianni, chuckling slightly. "He'd never admit he was taken down by an elf. A female no less."

Soris calmed slightly. "I suppose you're right. You should go get ready Shianni."

She nodded, looking relieved as color returned to her face. She than disappeared into a house with the brides and bridesmaids. Soris turned his attention back to Darrian, opening his mouth to speak but stopping as his gaze became fixed above Darrian's shoulder.

"Another Shemlen."

Sure enough, there was a man clad in a mismatched set of grey and white armor with two blades strapped to his back and a garish beard like the ones worn on the occasional drunkard that wandered into the Alienage was standing near the Hahren's home.

Darrian narrowed his eyes angrily and started towards this man. Soris hurried after him, urging caution. "Don't do anything stupid, Cousin.." he warned, but was dismissed with a wave of Darrian's hand.

"I'm dealing with this before there is any more trouble."

When they drew closer, it became evident that this man had a pompous bearing, standing as though he had every right to be there, intruding on elvish territory. His dark hair was graying at the temples and pulled back in a short pony tail. His face was grizzled and scarred, and his dark eyes eyed them curiously.

"You're not welcome here, Shemlen." Darrian said bluntly, not bothering to hide the barb in his voice.

"I have business here." The man replied simply, looking at Darrian a bit curiously. "Though I might of just found what I was looking for." When Darrian refused to back down the man continued. "Surely it has not escaped your notice that I am both armed and armored. Any fight between us would be rather one-sided."

"You have no business here." Darrian warned, taking a step closer.

"Duncan! Good to see you!" Valendrian, the white haired village elder, called out as he approached them.

"The courage to stand his ground against an armed man that is bigger than he. Quite the elf you have here, Valendrian." The man obviously called Duncan responded and Darrian stepped away.

"Duncan there is a wedding today, and these are the grooms to be." Valendrian said pleasantly, indicating Soris and Darrian.

"I'm sorry... I didn't know.." Darrian waffled, looking ashamed that he just threatened a friend of their elder_. Damn it, Damn it. I'm an idiot. I know all shems aren't bastards like Vaughn.._

"Its all right. I was not the most forth coming." Duncan smiled calmly, eyeing Darrian appreciatively. "You are Adaia's boy, are you not?"

Darrian blinked in surprise. "How did you-" He was cut off by the elder.

"This is his wedding day Duncan." There was a warning tone in Valendrian's voice that Darrian did not understand. Duncan backed down, nodding slightly.

"Of course. Don't let me ruin it." Duncan said in a tone that made Darrian know he had just been dismissed. Soris grabbed Darrian's shoulder, pulling him towards the dais.

"Come on, its about to start."

Darrian glanced over his shoulder as he was led away, his light blue eyes locking with Duncan's dark ones, and Darrian couldn't help but be curious.

Nesiara, Valora, Shianni and the other bridesmaids waited for them on the dais, as did a chantry priest.

"Ah, thank you for fetching my groom, Soris." Nesiara said, eyeing Darrian once more. "Seems I have hooked me a playful one. What fun that will be."

"Soris! I thought you'd run off!" Valora said, chuckling nervously.

"Don't be silly." Soris chuckled, just as nervously.

As they lined up on the dais, Soris by Valora's side, and Darrien by Nesiara's, Bann Vaughn thundered into the Alienage, with more than two lackeys this time, looking murderous.

As he and the other two nobles stormed onstrage, the Chantry Priest looked frightened.

"Please ser, its a wedding!" She pleaded, much like Soris had earlier.

"Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business, but don't pretend this is a proper wedding. Now we're here for a good time, aren't we boys?" Bann Vaughn chuckled, his eyes still bearing an evil glint as his companions chuckled as well, moving to surround the girls. "Let's take those two, the one in the tight dress, and... where's the bitch that bottled me?"

"Over here, Lord!" One of his companions called.

"I won't let you take them!" Anger welled up inside of Darrian Tabris, his fist balling at his side. In mid swing, his arm was caught by one of the lordlings, and Vaughn turned to face Darrian.

"I don't believe you have much of a choice." And with a swift backhand, Darrian went crashing down to the ground. The last sounds to reach his ears were of Shianni screaming as Bann Vaughn and his men hauled her and the other women away.

_I will stop you... I won't let you hurt them..._

And than he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Vengeance

"Ahhh.." Darrian moaned, clutching his pounding head as he awoke, his eyes flickered open to see Soris leaning over him, his expression dire.

"They took them! Shianni, Valora, Nesiara... all of them!"

After forcing himself onto his feet, Darrian gave Soris a grim smirk. "I've always wanted to see the Arl's estate. Haven't you?"

Soris sighed with resignation. "I'd knew you would say that..."

"Calm down!" The Hahren commanded, his usually gentle voice raised in warning as he addressed the group of elves that had amassed since the kidnapping.

"They have our women!"

"What are we going to do?!"

"That was my sister!"

The elves called out, panic in their voices and on their faces.

"We've got to think of a plan. . .we can't act ras-"The Hahren had began, cut off by Soris and Darrian approaching.

"I'm going after them." The young Tabris said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

"M-Me too!" Soris chimed in.

Valendrian sighed. "I knew you'd want too. I will not stop you."

Not even ten minuted later, armed with weapons loaned to them by Duncan and following an elf that worked at the estate, Darrian and Soris had left the Alienage.

"I hope you have a plan, Cousin." Soris muttered out of the corner of his mouth as they made their way through Denerim's side streets.

"We kill them." Darrian responded, shrugging his shoulders. Soris stared at his cousin in mute horror.

"Kill them. That's it? Kill them all? Guards and everything?" Soris said hoarshly, not wanting to think about it.

"Yep. All of them. Every single shemlen that works for that Maker forsaken piece of shit." Hearing his cousin sigh at this made Darrian smile grimly_. And if you've hurt them, if you've hurt her... There will be no end to your suffering, mark my words._

The estate was dark and foreboding, only a few windows flickering with light.

"There's the servants' entrance." The elf leading them whispered, indicating a door guarded by two men. "Now, be careful. Don't expect any help inside, even from the elven servants. Most are too terrified to disobey their masters."

Darrian nodded, and unsheating his daggers and advancing forward.

The elf exchanged a glance with Soris. "Determined, isn't he?"

"You have no idea.." Soris sighed, unshouldering the loaned crossbow and beginning to follow.

The guards barely had time to notice the intruders before Darrian's knives were at their throats, sliding across them and ending their lives. Crimson blood soaked Darrian's front as he moved the guards to the side and Soris joined him.

"Come on." He opened the door, slipping inside. Darrian became lost in thought as he carved his path through the estates numerous guards, cutting them down with the fevor of a much more experienced killer. He only paused to loot the occasional chest, deftly picking the lock and righteously relieving the nobles of the contents within.

While Darrian seemed to be enjoying every moment, Soris was frightened. Not frightened enough, however, to resist the urge to fire a few bolts into the onslaught of guards.

"27." Darrian stated, looking satisfied as he wiped off one of his blades on his already bloody breeches.

"You're keeping count?" Soris asked, looking exasperated.

"Of course. This is something to be proud of."

"Only you would think that."

"And that, Cousin, is what makes me special." Darrian said with a grin as he moved to open the door infront of them.

"She's still warm, how picky are ya?" A rough-sounding guard chuckled from within, nudging the body of one of the elven bridesmaids with the toe of his filthy boot.

"I ain't picky!" Another guard lustfully responded, his hand moving to his belt as the other guards chuckled.

"Darri-"Soris called out as his cousin rushed into the room, all common sense gone from his head and replaced by the rage welling from his heart. The guards scattered as Darrian approached, swiftly planting a hard kick to the lustful guard's face.

"It's one of them dirty knife ears!"

"SHUT UP!" Darrian shouted, ducking under the swing of the guard's longsword and rising up to implant his daggers in the man's stomach. Blood gurgled from the guard's mouth and his sword clanked against the hard stone floor as it was dropped from his limp fingers.

"Get 'im!" One of the other guards shouted in his superior tone. "Make the knife-ear pay!"

Pain rushed through Darrian's body as an arrow pierced his left shoulder and he let out a murderous howl. The howl was followed by a dull thunk as the offending guard fell to his knees, a crossbow bolt right between the eyes.

Darrian ripped the arrow from his shoulder, biting his lip as pain attempted to overwhelm him again, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed the last guard raising a maul behind him. Moving as though he had not been injured, Darrian ducked again, slid across the blood stained floor, and shoved the arrow he had held straight under the last guard's chin. With the guards felled, Darrian let out another growl of pain.

"You all right?" Soris asked, coming up to Darrian.

"That was a good shot." Darrian managed a smirk for his cousin.

"It was luck, that's what it was." Soris sighed, his eyes falling onto the elven maid on the ground. "Nola.. One of the bridesmaids."

"Look. Defensive wounds. She fought back." Darrian remarked as he knelt down next to her to rearrange the woman's dress. Shianni would fight back. . . please don't let this happen to Shianni. . .

Darrian retrieved his daggers than turned to the last door that stood between him and Bann Vaughn.

"So, a plan? A plan would be good?" Soris pleaded, knowing full well what the look in Darrian's eyes meant.

"We kill them." Darrian growled as he kicked open the door to Bann Vaughn's room. Laying on the floor between Vaughn and several lackeys was Shianni. She appeared almost.. broken.. as she laid on the cold floor, clutching at the ripped remnants of her gown, her eyes darting around nervously until they locked on Darrian as he entered.

"Darrian.." She said weakly as Vaughn turned to see who had barged into the room.

"Ah, the knife ear that dared raise his tone with me at the.."Vaughn supressed an evil chuckle. "...wedding."

"I will KILL YOU!" Darrian raged, lifting a dagger and pressing it against the soft flesh of Vaughn's neck.

Panic fluttered in the spoiled noble's eyes as he noticed the cold steel pressed against his throat, the scent of blood that filled his nostrils and the murderous look of the knife ear that had burst into the room.

"Now, now... no need for that!" Vaughn said, failing at sounding calm. "Tell you what, Forty sovereigns. I'll give you forty sovereigns and you leave the women here." He offered, a hand moving to his coin purse.

"YOU THINK I WOULD TAKE A BRIBE FROM A FILTHY SHEMLEN BASTARD!" The elf countered pressing the dagger harder and causing Vaughn to stumble backwards. It did not take long for the nobleman to realize he had the elves outnumbered and he roughly pushed Darrian back, than withdrew his own weapon.

"Pfft! I always regret talking to knife-ears! Now I'll just gut your ignorant carcasses instead!" Vaughn spat, his friends moving in to help him as a grim smirk spread on Darrian's lips.

"Try it!" Darrian dared, charging forward. Steel clashed against steel as the shemlen swung his blade and Darrian deflected the blow with one of his daggers. Neither combatant was without skill, and it seemed like hours passed with neither landing a blow. Desperate for an opening, Darrian ducked closer to Vaughn, cauing the shemlen to stumble backwards. That gave the elf the opening he needed, and with swift hands he plunged one of his daggers into the shemlen's gut. Color faded from Vaughn's face, his sword falling from his grip as his eyes filled with terror.

"Me-Mercy.." Vaughn begged.

Darrian merely laughed as he swung his other blade in an arc and Vaughn's head went flying across the room, crashing into the wall.

The other nobles were easily dispatched, leaving Darrian surrounded by the corpses of the shemlens who had wronged his family. If not for the pleading call of Shianni, he might of gone on a rampage and killed all the nobles in Denerim before he would of been stopped.

"C-Cousin.."

"Shianni!" Darrian rushed to her side as Soris went into the next room looking for the other women.

"Yo-You came..." Shianni smiled up at Darrian as he took her into his arms and brushed a stray hair away from her face.

"Of course I did.. Soris too."

"I knew you would... Did you... Did you teach that Shemlen bastard a lesson?"

Darrian smiled, leaning forward and planting an affectionate kiss on the wounded girl's forehead. "Course I did, Cousin. Of course I did." He slipped an arm underneath Shianni's knees, and lifted her as he stood. He carried her all the way back to the Alienage as Soris and the other women followed.

"What have you done?!" The elvish woman Elva shrieked as Darrian and the others returned and told their story to Valendrian. Darrian pointedly ignored her, his brow furrowed slightly with worry, quite aware of Duncan's scrutinizing gaze on him.

"...Nola is dead.. they cut her down as she resisted... Shianni..." Darrian's voice broke, unable to speak anymore as Valendrian placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"You did us proud, boy." The elder said quietly as a troop of city guards came storming into the Alienage.

"There was an incident at the Arl's estate." The guard captain stated, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the gathered elves. "The Arl's own son murdered in cold blood. I have come to bring the one responsible to justice, Valendrian."

Soris and Darrian locked eyes, the former turning slightly pale. It was no secret that the punishment for slaying a shemlen, no matter how deserved the slaying was, is execution. Darrian gave his cousin a small smile, than stepped forward, his expression now hard as stone.

"I did it. I'm the one responsible."

The guard captain looked a tad shocked at that, perhaps not expecting the one responsible to step forward so easily. His gaze traveled along the blood soaked clothes Darrian wore, and the guard captain nodded.

"Good of you to come forward. Save your fellows a lot of heart ache."

"Excuse me. Guard Captain?" Duncan asked as he stepped to Darrian's side. "I am invoking the Right of Conscription on this lad."

The guard captain met Duncan's gaze, and looked from him to the bloody elf. "It is your right, Grey Warden."

Grey Warden? This shemlen is a warden!?

"I only ask that you get him out of the city. Today."

Duncan nodded in agreement and the guard troop left. Duncan turned towards Darrian, a somewhat sad look in his eyes.

"I'd say your goodbye, its unlikely you'll be back here again."

Darrian blinked, looking startled, his gaze darting from the elder to Duncan to Soris than back to Duncan. "Wait... what?!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three : Unwanted New Beginnings.

"Wait, what?!" Darrian exclaimed, taking a step back from the Hahren and Duncan. "I-I have to leave?" Comprehension was slow to come to him, the events of the day still reeling in his mind.

"You have just been conscripted into the Grey Wardens." Duncan said, not without kindness.

"You will be coming with me to Ostagar to help fight against the Blight."

The Wardens are heros.. Fighting against all odds to defend the world, shemlens, dwarves, elves... all of them equals. A worthy goal if one was the type.. but to leave, to not see his family, his friends, home...

Stiffling his panic, Darrian stood up a bit straighter and tried to put a dignified expression on his face. "All right. I'll... just... go than. I won't be long."

He turned, and almost ran smack into Soris in his haste.

"Cousin, you saved me!" Soris said, sounding extremely grateful.

"Yeah... well.. I kinda roped you into the whole rescue mission thing.." Darrian said dismissively, shrugging his shoulders and refusing to look Soris in the eye.

"So...um..."

A long quiet moment past, and understanding came to Soris's eyes.

"I'll be all right, Cousin. I think I'll marry Valora, start a family." Soris shrugged, trying to sound casual. "She has some good ideas on how to make life better.. I could end up with someone far worse."

"Like Elva." Darrian broke out in a wide grin, finally looking into Soris's face. They both fought back laughter.

"Take care of yourself, Cousin." Darrian said, his throat feeling dry.

"You too."

Gratefully, Soris stayed with the Hahren so that Darrian's walk to his house was solitary, giving him one last chance to look around the Alienage. The only place he's ever really known.

_I don't want to leave... I'd rather get married.. _Darrian grumbled, walking by the tree again. He stopped, and placed a hand on its rough bark, staring down at its roots_. If I could start this day over.. would I... No. That bastard deserved it. He deserved worse_. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate_. At least I'll be able to do something important... Pfft. Like that has ever mattered. I doubt I'll make much of a difference anyhow. Probably die first. Oh yeah. That would make mother proud_.

He chuckled at his own pitifulness as he stepped away from the tree and went to his own home. His father was standing just inside, a bleak yet proud expression on his face. The elder Tabris seized Darrian by the shoulders and brought him in for a tight hug.

"You've made me proud, son. I'll miss you, but I'll try not to worry. You've more than proven you can take care of yourself." Cyrion said tearfully, ending the embrace and stepping back to admire his boy. He put on a smile and tried to stay composed.

"You do that. Soon enough you'll be hearing stories of my great gallant adventures against the darkspawn!" Darrian said with a cheerfulness he did not feel. Cyrion chuckled.

"Shianni's in the back. You should say goodbye." With one last pat on his son's back, and a wishful glance into his eyes, Cyrion left the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

"You saved us. I can't believe you came for us."

Darrian turned his head slightly to see Nesiara standing in the doorway to what was,until today it seems, his room. "Of course I did." He responded.

Nesiara stepped towards him, and gently placed a hand on Darrian's cheek. "You are a good man, Darrian. A brave one. I couldn't of asked for a better groom." Her eyes grew moist as she looked into Darrian's sad blue ones.

"Nesiara..I.."

"I know. You've leaving. I don't get my groom after all." Nesiara smiled warmly as Darrian took her hands into his.

"I'll come back..." He began, but was unable to finish.

"No, don't say that. Just... don't. We'll never know what could of been, its a burden we will have to bear." Nesiara pulled away, turning her back towards him and Darrian was surprised to feel his heart ache. "Shianni is in the next room. She wants to see you."

He reached out to touch Nesiara's shoulder, to comfort her, to say anything, but his hand fell short. I have no right. She's free now. There will be someone else for her.

Darrian sighed heavily than stepped into the next room. Shianni was laying on the bed she had dragged him out of just this morning. His brow furrowed as he noted the bruises appearing on her pale flesh. She looked up at him with weak eyes.

"Cousin. You're leaving." She said sadly, reaching a hand out to him, which he gladly took and held to his cheek as he knelt beside the bed.

"To be a hero." Darrian smiled, wanting to reassure her.

"You're already a hero, Cousin. You've always been my hero... Moreso after today." Shianni said softly, stroking his face as Darrian closed his eyes to fight back emotion.

"I should've been faster.. I should've gutted him when I first had the chance.. I should've stopped him.."

"Hush." Shianni scolded. "Don't be crazy. There was nothing else you could of done. Nothing." She sat up, grabbed Darrian's face and forced him to look at her. "Go out there and make the Alienage proud, Cousin. I'll be all right, I'm alive! I've got a chance to

make life here better... you go out there and make sure the whole world knows your name."

Darrian smiled weakly, unable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. "Take care of Soris, will you?"

Shianni chuckled. "Without you around, I guess I'll have too." She leaned forward and kissed her cousin's forehead before he stood up and walked away, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hands.

As the door closed, Shianni collapsed onto the bed again, burying her face in the pillow, unable to fight the urge to cry a moment longer.

By the time Darrian reached the Alienage's gate where Duncan was waiting his eyes were dry but a bit red. He did not bother to look the shemlen in the eyes as he muttered "I'm ready."

Duncan simply nodded and the two of them left Denerim. Darrian refused to even glance back in the city's direction.

Three nights into the long journey to Ostagar they made camp in a small outcropping of trees. Darrian had still not spoken a word to Duncan, but listened carefully as the elder man spoke of the Wardens and the battle to come.

"Your beard is magnificent." Darrian said quietly as he poked the fire. He had long since realized that Duncan was of a good sort, and did not deserve his broodish attitude. However, habits had been hard to break and the elf had never really talked civilly to a shemlen...no a human before.

Duncan merely smiled, looking at Darrian with his kind dark eyes. "Thank you, lad."

From that point on, conversation came easily between them. Duncan told him of how he had meet Darrian's mother and Valendrian. Darrian reguiled him with stories of the Alienage, and tales of the adventures he and Shianni took as children. Granted, those adventures were merely in their imaginations, but entertaining none the less.

As they approached the ruins of Ostagar, Darrian thought to ask "Am I the only recruit you have?"

"No, there are two more within the camp. With your arrival we can start the Joining." Duncan responded as they trudged along.

"The Joining?" Darrian did not bother to hide the surprise in his voice. "What, do I get a membership card or something?"

Duncan smirked beneath his magnificent beard. "Unfortunately no. But I can't tell you of it now. It will have to wait."

"Can it wait long enough to get some food?" Darrian asked hopefully as they began to cross the bridge to the king's camp, where Duncan's tent was set up. Darrian was purposefully ignoring the crumbling structures of the once grande fortress. He pretended not to be enthralled by the smooth gray stonework or the elaborate arch ways they passed beneath. Nothing to him would be as good as the Alienage, with all of its delipitated buildings and thatched roofs.

Duncan chuckled. "Yes, it does not need to start till evening. It is early yet. You will have free reign of the camp, I just ask that you find the other Grey Warden that is here with me. His name is Alistair. Find him after you are done looking around, and come to my tent. I'll be able to tell you more than."

"Duncan!"A too cheery voice sounded, accompanied by the clash of many armored footsteps. "Back at last! I hear you have found a promising recruit. I take it this is he?" The blonde shemlen in golden armor looked down at Darrian with a broad smile on his face. "Allow me, to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

Darrian stared up into the man's eyes. He had heard tales. Many from Duncan. This had to be the shemlen King Cailan. Darrian was unimpressed. "I don't need kindness from a shemlen lord." He stated simply, refusing to shake the King's offered hand.

"Do you come from the Alienage in Denerim? That is my home town as well." Cailan continued on, either ignoring or not noticing Darrian's rudeness. The elf got the impression that it was the latter. "How are things within the Alienage? I wasn't allowed in when I was younger... Don't know why."

"I killed a man for raping my cousin." Darrian said crossly, just trying to get a reaction out of the man. He was satisfied when King Cailan's eyebrows shot up with shock.

"W-what?!"The King asked, gaping, looking at Darrian than at Duncan.

"There are things in the Alienage that will need your attention, my Lord." Duncan said, not disagreeing with Darrian's words.

"I will look into it the moment I am back at Denerim and the darkspawn vanquished. I will not stand by while my citizens are mistreated."

A smile played at the corners of Darrian's mouth as Duncan and King Cailan conversed. _You know... I almost believe that fool of a king had no idea... _

By the time Darrian had focused back into the conversation, it had ended and the others had all but disappeared, leaving him standing at the edge of the King's camp.

"Well. Now what?" Darrian shrugged to himself as he began to wander about the camp, stopping when he smelled some delicious food and stopping to eat it. Afterwards he talked a guard into giving up his leftovers for a prison in exchange for the key to a chest, watched a bit as the mages chanted their spells, talked with an old, graying lady about the fade and how darkspawn are connected.. The last bit was rather interesting, Darrian would of like to talk some more but she had business to take care of.

Next, he headed to the quartermaster, hoping to get some supplies.

"Your pretty head might be decorating the end of a darkspawn's pike tomorrw, that's all

I'm saying?... Shall I take that cold glare as a no?"

Darrian suppressed a chuckle as he watched the pathetic shemlen with a bow on his back strike out. The shemlen than caught his eye. "You must be Duncan's new recruit. You're not what I thought you'd be."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Darrian snapped, his hackles raised. The shemlen shrugged dismissively.

"Just I didn't think you'd be an elf. That's all." The shemlen smiled slightly. "There's not many elves in the order, are there?"

"How would I know? I'm not in the order yet!" Darrian asked, sounding exasperated. "We've got that..joining thing... to do first, don't we?"

"Ah, that's right. What do you know about the joining? I reckon they'll be sending us into the Wilds." The shemlen said, nodding as he spoke.

"The Wilds? You mean the Korcari Wilds?" Darrian asked, his ears perking with interest. "Why do you think that anyhow? Listen in on their conversations?"

"That's just what I did, in fact. Was sneaking around camp last night when they mentioned it."

"You're paranoid." Darrian shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"You think they cooked that up for our benefit? Give us a good scare?" The shemlen considered, scratching his dark stubble as he did. "Don't think so. Not the type."

Darrian stared at him mildly amused. He was actually considering the option. This shemlen is a funny one.

"Anyway, since you're here, I should be getting back to Duncan. Name's Daveth, by the way." With a small wave the shemlen called Daveth hurried off and Darrian watched him go.

_The wilds. Supposedly dangerous. Still, maybe I'll get to shank something. Take my mind off of things._

After chewing out the Quartermaster for mistreating his elven servants, Darrian began to wander again, stopping to admire the magnificent Mabari war hounds in their kennels. He had seen a few escorting norbles around Denerim. To him, it always seemed that the hounds had more sense then the shemlens. Most of the hounds looked battle ready, sharp eyes and sharper teeth. However, one of them was laying on his side in the dirt, breathing rather heavily. The elf watched him with a furrowed brow as he leaned against the beast's fence.

"You all right boy?" Darrian asked quietly, and the mabari lifted his head to look at him. "You look sad, fella. What happened?"

"He lost his master in the last skirmish with the darkspawn. Swallowed some of their blood too." The houndsmaster said sadly, coming up to Darrian at the kennel. "Its a shame too, he's such a promising member of his breed. I only hope I can cure him."

"There's doubt?" Darrian asked, not taking his eyes off of the sad looking hound.

"WIth the medicine I have on hand... There's not much I can do." The houndsmaster sighed heavily, looking distressed. "There's a flower that grows in the wilds... If I had that, I could make a salve that could cure him up right quick."

_The Wilds... _Darrian glanced at the houndsmaster than back at the mabari who gave a pitiful whine. "I might be going into the Wilds. I can keep a look out." He offered.

"That's mighty kind of you. Before you leave though, can I ask another favor? I need to apply some medicine to stop it from getting worse but the dog won't let me near him. Can you step in, maybe muzzle him for me?"

Darrian raised his eyebrows in shock. "What if he tries to eat me!?"

The houndsmaster chuckled. "Just step into the kennel. We'll know right away if he trusts ya. Mabari are smart like that."

Darrian was about to open his mouth, tell the houndsmaster he was out of his mind, but his eyes fell to the hound again and his heart ached at the sight of those sad brown eyes. "A-alright.." He opened the kennel's door, stepping slowly inside. The hound looked up at Darrian, sniffed his hand, than leaned into it as if wishing to be stroked. The elf broke out into a grin and fell to his knees, petting the dog with both hands.

"Come on boy.. Gotta get this on." He said as peacefully as he could as he brandished the muzzle. The hound whimpered, but allowed himself to be muzzled.

"Outstanding!" The houndsmaster said as Darrian exited the kennel. "Now, the flower is white with a red center. Grows on dead wood. Should be plenty in the forest."

Darrian nodded, giving the hound another glance and a small wave before heading away. He heard the chanting of a chantry priest and gave that area wide berth. He felt no need to be preached at. I should probably go find Alistair.. that's his name, right? Where am I supposed to find him? This place is crawling with shemlen!

A few well placed questions and he knew the shemlen's location. He was supposed to be taking a message to the mages from the Reverend Mother. _So what... The Grey Wardens are messengers? Here, take this missive. There, go slay a darkspawn_. Darrian chuckled at himself as he padded up the stone pathway.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" A snide tone asked up ahead.

"Of all the impertinent- We mages are busy, preparing for yourritual. We do not have time to be badgered by the Chantry's errand boy!" A shemlen in colorful robes retorted, sounding quite disgusted.

Darrian held back, watching the arguement progress between the mage and the one in armor who he had assumed was Alistair.

"Awww.. And I was going to name one of my children after you..." Alistair cooed. "The grumpy one!"

"Fine, fine. I'll see the Reverened Mother, just leave me be!" The mage threw his hands in the air in disgust before turning on his heel and leaving.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together." Alistair remarked as Darrian stepped up to him. The elf raised a brow.

"You are a very strange shemlen."

"I get that alot." Alistair agreed. "Wait, we haven't met have we? You're not a mage are you?" He finished, with a touch of panic in his voice.

"..." Darrian considered saying that he was for a moment, just to see Alistair jump, but he decided against it. "No.. I'm not a mage."

"OH! You must be the new recruit! I should of recognized you right away! I apologize" Alistair said as recognition lit in his eyes.

"How could you of recognized me?" Darrian asked, looking rather put off. This shem apologizes rather easily. Does he think I'm that easily offended?

"Duncan sent word about you... Now.. what was that name?" The shemlen concentrated, his brow furrowed with thought.

Darrian watched Alistair struggle to recall his name for a couple of long minutes before helpfully supplying. "Darrian. Darrian Tabris."

"That's it! Yes. I'm Alistair, as you probably know already.."

The Grey Warden offered his hand, and Darrian just stared at it.

"Right. Um... " Alistair withdrew his hand, looking rather awkward. "As the junior member of the Order, I'll be accompaning you before the Joining."

"... I need to be followed?" Darrian grumbled.

"Well... think of it more of a tradition?" Alistair said with a hopeful grin and a shrug.

"Anyway, we should be getting back to Duncan. Have you seen the other recruits?"

"Uh... I ran into Daveth."

"Well, that'll make things easier. We should keep an eye out for Ser Jory on our way back than."

"...Wonderful." Darrian's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"You're very pessimistic, aren't you?"

"..." Darrian ignored Alistair as the pair walked back to Duncan's tent, finding Ser Jory along the way. Jory seemed very simple. And a bit too eager to become a warden in Darrian's eyes. The elf couldn't understand why Ser Jory seemed ready to become a warden and abandon his wife and unborn son just for the glory of dying against darkspawn.

"Hmph. Shemlen." Darrian muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: A Faithful Meeting.

After a short discussion with Duncan, during which the elder Grey Warden chastised Alistair for baiting the mage, Darrian and the other recruits headed into the Korcari Wilds. The Wilds was an amazing place, full of twisting tree roots and smell of rotting flesh that never seemed to leave the nostrils. Their mission was to collect three vials of darkspawn blood and retrieve some musty old treaties from an abandoned Grey Warden outpost. Ten minutes into the venture and Darrian was already tired of his companions.

"Did you hear that man? They took down a whole squadron of soldiers! How many darkspawn can we kill? A dozen? A Hunderd?" Ser Jory ranted, looking pained.

"Stop whining, you coward." Darrian growled, wanting to just shut the shemlen up. "This is what Grey Wardens are supposed to do, right? Kill these blighted things?"

"Yes, but.. this is just madness. He's sending us to our deaths! I'm going back.."

"Listen. I can sense darkspawn, all Grey Wardens can. That's why I'm here." Alistair said, sounding a bit frustrated with all of this himself.

"You hear that, Ser Knight? We might die, but we'd be warned about it first." Daveth interjected.

"Thats... comforting." Ser Jory replied, not looking the slightest bit comforted.

Darrian trudged forward, his boots making squishing sounds as he tramped through the muck. _The darkspawn we've fought so far have been killable. Just as killable as a shem. That knight is a blighted coward... A shame. I was just beginning to think highly of some shemlen..._

Somehow the elf found himself leading this troop of much taller recruits. He figured he was the only one amongst them that had a lick of sense, so had taken control from the start. Though he wasn't sure if Alistair refused control because it was a test for the recruits or he just enjoyed being led around. Darrian had a sickening feeling that it might be the latter.

"Poor sots. That just seems... excessive." Alistair commented as they walked underneath a ridge where three Ferelden soldiers had been hung in some sort of sick display. Darrian found himself agreeing. _Did the darkspawn do that? Or the barbarians.. what where they called? Ah! The Chasind? Or fellow soldiers perhaps_?

"Darkspawn.." Alistair warned, unsheating his longsword. Darrian followed his gaze and saw the sickening creatures than sped towards them. Alistair and Ser Jory clanked behind him. Short, stubby and dark, with broken smiles of pointed teeth and beady black eyes that shed no light. Genlocks, Alistair had called them. Filthy little creatures in Darrian's opinion.

He dodged a dagger wielded by one of them, than took a shot to his shoulder. The elf let out a yell of pain, and returned the injury a hundred fold.

"I think he's dead." Alistair smirked as Darrian finished his overkill.

"Gah." The elf was on his knees, clutching his shoulder where the blade had struck. Underneath the armor he knew was the wound that had been made at Bann Vaughn's estate.

The shot with the arrow, he never had a chance to clean it before leaving the Alienage, and with the quick departure it had slid to the back of his mind. Now the stabbing pain shot through his veins as he fought to get back to his feet.

_I need to keep going. I can't let a flesh wound stop me. I can't let them see me as weak._

"You all right?" Ser Jory asked, his voice shaking.

"Just a flesh wound." Darrian said, forcing himself to stand. "Who has the vials? Daveth?"

"Right 'ere!" Daveth handed Darrian several small vials.

Darrian than leaned over the bodies of the fallen darkspawn and collected the needed blood. He handed a vial to Ser Jory and one to Daveth, keeping one for himself. "You lose it, or break it, you're getting your own." He warned. Daveth smirked in response, and Ser Jory stared at his vial with large eyes before pocketing it. Darrian than looked towards Alistair. "Now, where are the treaties? I want to wrap this up."

"The outpost was east of here. Should be just over that ridge." Alistair pointed towards a ridge in the distance.

Without responding, Darrian began to walk towards the ridge. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something white and suddenly halted.

"What is it?" Daveth asked curiously as Darrian walked to a rotting tree trunk and plucked the white flower.

"A wilds flower. For the houndsmaster."

"Oh, that's right! I heard him goin on about offering an reward." Daveth nodded. Darrian carefully pocketed the flower, than continued onward.

When they got to the ruins, it was obvious they were in the correct place. While wiping the latest bit of darkspawn blood from their blades, the four men approached a battered chest, laying unceremoniously against a stone pillar.

"Well, well, what have we here? Are you a vulture , I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?" A soft, sultry voice called from above. Darrian turned to see the most wonderous shemlen woman slowly making her way down the massive stone steps to their right. Her dark hair was pulled up, showcasing her elegant, pale neck and shining skin. Her golden eyes reminded Darrian of a falcon, focusing on the Grey Warden recruits as if they were her latest prey. So entranced he was with her face, Darrian barely noticed the odd mismatched, yet revealing, clothing she wore.

"So which is it? Intruder? Or vulture?" She asked, fixing her hawk like glance on Darrian as she gracefully crossed her arms.

"Neither. We're Grey Wardens." Darrian found himself saying, crossing his arms as well, narrowing his eyes at her.

" 'Tis no longer. The Wardens have long since abandoned it and the Wilds have claimed this base as their own. Tell me your name." The woman asked, looking quite condensending than curious.

"Darrian. And yours?"

"You may call me Morrigan." Morrigan smiled, looking pleased.

"Careful, she looks Chasind. That could mean there are more about." Alistair warned.

The woman chuckled, looking quite amused. "You think I am Chasind do you? You fear that I will summon more of my kind to swoop down on you?"

"Yes. Swooping is bad."

" 'Tis matters not. You are here for the treaties, yes? They are no longer here." The woman stated, indicating the broken chest before them.

"Yo-You stole them! You're a... sneaky witch thief!" Alistair accused.

" 'Twas not I that took them." Morrigan looked down her nose at Alistair, sounding quite displeased.

"Than who took them?" Darrian asked, stepping between the two.

" 'Twas my mother." Morrigan replied, her look of displeasure fading as she focused on Darrian.

"Can you take us to her?"

"A sensible request." She waved for them to follow her as she disappeared into the thicket of Wilds. "Follow me."

After a short walk through the thickest section of swamp, they arrived at a small hut that reminded Darrian of some of the huts in the Alienage. Though, this one smelled of swamp water and a thick, hearty stew. Most in the Alienage just smelled of depression or cotton sheets.

"This is Mother." Morrigan said, indicating the proud woman with a tangled mane of gray hair. At first glance, Darrian was sure she was crazy.

"That's the Witch of the Wilds!" Daveth said madly, taking a step backwards.

"Witch of the Wilds?" The gray haired woman asked with an amused cackle. "My Morrigan must of told you that. She loves tales like that. How she dances under the moon..."

"Mother.." Morrigan sighed.

Darrian could not hide his smirk as Daveth continued his rant. "She'll put us in the pot she will!"

"If the pot is any warmer than out here, than I'd welcome it." Ser Jory remarked, for once being the most composed of the two.

"Sensible lad." The so called Witch agreed. She than looked to Alistair and Darrian in turn. "You've come for the treaties? Your precious seals have worn off ages ago, and I have protected them." She thrust a fistful of papers into Alistair's arms.

"Y-You protected them?"Alistair fumbled, not quite wanting to believe it.

"And why not? Your precious Grey Wardens will need them." She replied tartly. Darrian put a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter.

"Take these back to your Grey Wardens and tell them this blight is worse than they believe." The Witch warned.

"... What do you mean?" Darrian asked, suddenly feeling concerned. There was something about how the woman spoke that made him believe her.

"That either they expect less, or the danger is more!" She threw her head back as she cackled.

_Yep. She's crazy._

"Why should they believe you?" Alistair asked warily.

"Why shouldn't they? Greater men have fallen not believing me." She focused her eyes on Darrian now. "Tell me. Does your elven blood give you better insight? What do you believe?"

_Besides the fact you're off your rocker? _"I don't know what to believe." Darrian replied simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"A comment that imparts more wisdom than it implies." The Witch replied sagely.

"You have your treaties. You can go." Morrigan said tartly, obviously eager to part company.

"Do not be ridiculous girl, these are your guests!" Her mother chastised.

"Oh very well.." Morrigan sighed. "I will lead you out of the Wilds. Follow me."

Darrian could not help but glance at Morrigan every chance he got as they followed her out of the Wilds. At one point, Morrigan caught him staring and narrowed her eyes.

" 'Tis something I can help you with?" She said curtly, crossing her arms.

"Ah... I was just wondering.." Darrian mumbled, his tongue suddenly feeling too large for his mouth. He rarely fumbled with words, and yet none would come to him easily when he was the target of Morrigan's golden gaze. "...You are a witch, aren't you? A mage rather?" _,Is witch an offensive term? I don't know much about mages at all... And she's... she's certainly not how I pictured them.._

She smirked playfully. " 'Tis true. I have dabbled in the magical arts. My mother has taught me well. Why is it you ask?"

"Well.. You're... the only mage I've met." Darrian shrugged. "Growing up in the Alienage.. I wasn't exposed to things like that.."

"Things like that? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Magical things. Squalor, oppression... dirt. Those things I am used to." The elf took a deep breath of the Wilds' air, a grin on his face. "But these Wilds... Everything grows as it wills, ignores the rules, you know?" He shrugged. "It's nice. Magical."

Morrigan let out a melodious giggle. "Not many would refer to the Wilds as... nice. 'Tis a nice change. However... the condition of the Wilds has naught to do with me being a mage. Or you not being exposed to magic."

"It's not just the magic.." Darrian admitted, running a hand through his hair as he glanced away to hide the slight flush on his cheeks. "Most shemlen women...I mean human women... I have met.. they weren't like you. They looked down their noses at me purely because of my birth. Not because of any true worthiness."

"You think I do not look down my nose at you? 'Tis impossible not too. You are quite a bit shorter." Morrigan commented.

Darrian broke out in another smile. "Oh, I know you do. But you have reason. That's my point. Its obvious you're a capable woman. You have lived here your whole life, I am guessing?" Morrigan nodded, listening curiously. "You know every inch, every tree, every animal? As you said, these are your Wilds. And as such, you have every right to look down your cute little nose at all of the trespassers into your Wilds. You shouldn't look down your nose at someone for walking down the street.. Or just exsisting." Darrian was pleased to note that his comment about Morrigan's cute nose brought a slight flush to her cheeks, which made her all the more alluring.

" 'Tis true. Though most lack that viewpoint of yours." Morrigan smirked slightly, glancing at Darrian out of the corner of her eyes.

Darrian glanced at the other recruits and Alistair. "More have it than you think. They might be idiots, but they haven't acted as I had expected of them. Not like that blighted bastard..." He gritted his teeth, his mind going back to Vaughn and that night at the estate. Morrigan watched him, a brow raised as if curious but she did not ask.

"And here we are." Morrigan halted, waving her hand as the wildness cleared out before them and the ruins of Ostagar stood within view.

Darrian sighed deeply, while the other recruits let out cries of joy.

"I guess this is it than. Thanks Morrigan." Darrian smiled sadly, glancing at her while the others trudged forward. "You're probably grateful at the chance to disappear into the Wilds again. I understand."

Something in Darrian's eyes made Morrigan believe that Darrian did understand. She watched him for a second, than turned away, glancing over her shoulder at the last minute. " Darrian was it? You are not what I expected elves to be like either. 'Twas most surprising."

Despite himself, he smiled again feeling warm and fuzzy inside as he followed the others towards Ostagar.

"You seemed to be getting pretty chummy with that witch." Alistair said, his tone hard and mildly disgusted.

"Have you ever talked to one? I mean really talked? Not just berated them with your crude humor?" Darrian snapped. "They're people. They have every right to live without being hunted. And I have every right to speak to one!"

Alistair stared hard. "Of course they're people! But she's an apostate! Malificar! Living outside the Chantry's laws. That's illegal!"

"So is killing the noble bastard that raped your cousin. Hell, rape is against the Chantry's laws, doesn't stop it from happening, does it?"

"I-I.. I was just..." Alistair backed down, sounding embarrassed.

"Just don't, all right? Just don't try." Darrian warned, speeding up his pace to walk ahead of the junior Grey Warden.

"We should get back to Duncan." Alistair called, and Darrian waved him away.

"I'll be right there.. " Instead of heading towards Duncan's tent, he headed towards the mabari kennels. The houndsmaster was standing in the spot Darrian had left him. The elf approached him with the flower in hand.

"Is this it?" Darrian asked hopefully, his gaze dropping to the cinnamon-colored mabari hound that was laying inside the kennel. His condition looked mildly improved, but he still looked too weak to stand.

"Yes, that's it! With that I can make a proper salve and he'll improve in no time!" The houndsmaster said in delight, taking the flower from Darrian. "Say, why don't you drop by after the battle tomorrow? We'll see about imprinting him on you!"

Darrian took a step back, looking at the houndsmaster wearily. "Imprinting? What the hell is that?"

The houndsmaster chuckled. "Mabari are as smart as they are vicious. They choose their masters. And are always loyal to the one they choose. Seeing as how this hound's old master is long dead... "

Darrian's ears perked with interest. "Do you think it will work?"

"Its likely he's aware you're responsible for healing him. He's smarter than the average tax collector. Just come by after the battle. See what happens."

Darrian nodded, kneeling by the kennel and looking at the hound within_. A mabari! Only shemlen nobles have them.. He's probably as lonely as I am... what a pair we will make._

As if the hound could read his thoughts, the mabari turned towards him and licked his fingers through the fence.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Betrayal Most Foul

Darrian's thoughts were still on the mabari as he rejoined Alistair, Ser Jory and Daveth around Duncan's campfire.

"Did it go well?" Duncan asked.

"We should tell you about the.."Darrian broke out in a smile as he spoke, his eyes darting towards Daveth "witch."

"Yes, we ran into two rather strange people in the Wilds, they said they were protecting the treaties." Alistair said, handing the treaties over to Duncan.

"Where they Chasind?"

"No.. they didn't seem to be. I think they were apostates."

"Alistair. I know you have templar training, but you are one no longer. You shouldn't concern yourself with illegal mages."

Alistair sighed. "Yes, I know Duncan.."

"Now, that we have the blood we can start the Joining. The Circle Mages have been preparing all day." Duncan said solemnly, glancing at the recruits.

"What can you tell us about the joining now?" Darrian asked.

Duncan turned his eyes to Darrian, looking more serious than he had ever looked, which was quite the feat considering that Duncan was a serious man. He carefully explained the dangers of the Joining, without actually coming out and saying what the dangers were exactly. Darrian's eyes grew wider as Duncan spoke.

"You mean... it can kill us...?" Darrian asked, quite surprised.

"That is why the Joining is kept secret." Duncan said grimly.

"I'm more anxious to see this Joining now." Daveth said, smirking.

"I as well." Ser Jory agreed, though not as confidently.

"Than let us begin. Alistair, take them to the old temple. I will meet you there."

Soon, they were gathered in an odd circular space, paved with the smooth gray stones Darrian had come to associate with Ostagar. A short stone pillar sat in the center of the space, and ontop of it was the biggest goblet Darrian had ever seen. He was certain the opening of the cup was as wide as his face.

"We.. have to drink the blood..?" Ser Jory said, taking a step backwards, sounding terrified.

"It is what allows us to sense their presence." Duncan replied. "Alistair, if you would."

Alistair mumbled some words that were apparently said since the first Joining, though Darrian paid it little mind. He was watching Ser Jory's face as the color left it little by little. _Surely the shemlen didn't expect something simple? Did he expect being a Warden was like being a knight? Hmph. Shemlen._

"Daveth, step forward."

Darrian watched as Daveth stepped forward, looking mildly curious. The shemlen raised the goblet to his lips and took a slow sip. The reaction was almost immediate. As Duncan eased the goblet away, Daveth let out a painful cry, his body seizing and falling to the cold stone floor.

"I am sorry Daveth." Duncan spoke kindly, than turned his attention towards Jory as

Darrian continued to stare at Daveth_. I guess he wasn't joking... It can kill you. I wonder if Daveth believed in the Maker... If so, I hope that he is by his side now._

"You ask too much! I can not do this!" Ser Jory's panicked voice pulled Darrian's attention just in time for the elf to see the knight backing away looking terrified while brandishing his weapon at an approaching Duncan. "I have a wife! Heavy with child.. I cannot!"

Without putting the goblet down, Duncan unsheathed his own weapon easily parrying Ser Jory's shaky strike. The elder Warden than shoved his shoulder into the knight's chest, burying his dagger hilt deep between Ser Jory's ribs. "I am sorry."

Alistair turned away, wincing, and Duncan approached Darrian.

The elf took the goblet in his hands with more confidence than he felt. The noxious fumes hit his nose and he had to fight the urge to gag. _I'm gonna die. How heroic._

Deciding not to give himself a second more to ponder his fate, Darrian raised the foul smelling liquid to his lips and took a large gulp. If it was possible, it tasted worse than it smelled, though he did not have time enough to linger on that thought. Pain coursed through his body, and he felt his muscles seize. Darrian wanted to cry out, find a way to express this terrible feeling, but his voice would not come, it was as though his throat had swelled shut. Terrible visions of a dark, demonic looking dragon crying out to a darkspawn horde came flooding his mind. He was not aware of the moment he collapsed, nor did he think the terrible visions would end until his eyes flickered open and he saw Duncan and Alistair leaning over him.

"Did you have nightmares? I had terrible nightmares after my Joining." Alistair said with a concerned tone that Darrian ignored. The elf fought his way to his feet, shaking off the lingering pain of that terrible drink.

"I'm glad I only have to do that once.." Darrian grumbled, rubbing his temple with two fingers.

"As far as you know!" Alistair let out a michevious cackle for which Darrian shot him a piercing look. "Kidding, KIDDING!"

"If you two are quite finished?" Duncan asked with a disapproving tone.

"Yes, sorry Duncan." Alistair apologized looking abashed.

"Now. Darrian, King Cailan has asked that you come and attend the war meeting this evening." Duncan announced much to Darrian's surprise.

"Wait.. Why?" Darrian asked suspiciously, wondering if he would be made to fetch map scrolls or dust off the tables.

"I am not sure, but you should attend as soon as you are able." Duncan than nodded to both of them, than left to prepare for the meeting.

"Wonder why he didn't want to see you? You're more of a warden than I am." Darrian glanced at Alistair.

"Dunno. Maybe he wanted someone to make rude comments and overreact to everything he says?" Alistair responded with a shrug.

Darrian's eyes narrowed, taking a step towards the shemlen. "Or perhaps he wanted someone with a bit of sense in his brain that could produce thoughts that were fully his own and not just spout forth the Chantry's brainwashed drabble!"

Alistair took a step forward as well, and soon the two were within inches of each other, with their locked eyes emitting fierce glares that seemed to set off sparks of disapproval.

"After all.. He does have enough lackeys, doesn't he?" Darrian continued, unable to set a filter between his brain and his mouth. The day had been simply exhausting, and the elf was tired of it. Alistair's eyes grew red and his fist tightened at his side. A moment later, the shemlen reared back and that fist landed square on Darrian's jaw. The elf was sent flying, landing with a resounding thud against the cold stone.

Darrian sat up, rubbing his jaw as he watched Alistair looking down at his own fist in astonishment.

"Oh..Oh man I'm sorry..." Alistair began, kneeling down to see if Darrian was all right. The elf smirked.

"You have a nice right hook. Its gonna leave quite a bruise." Darrian patted Alistair on the shoulder. "Feel better?"

Alistair's cheeks flushed. "Sort of." He mumbled.

"Good." Darrian got to his feet, dusting off the back of his breeches. "Now.. I've got to get to a meeting. And maybe find something cold to lay on my face." Darrian chuckled, waving to Alistair as he walked off.

_I've really got to watch what I say. I'm not in the Alienage. These aren't the people of Denerim_. He rubbed his jaw again. _This'll be a fine reminder to shut my trap_.

Since there was some time before the war meeting was set to start, Darrian wandered the camp a bit more, finding his way to the kennels. The mabari he had helped was up on his feet and barked excitedly at his approach. The houndsmaster was nowhere to be seen so Darrian settled himself in the dirt outside of the kennel and squeezed his hands through the bars to pat the mabari on the snout.

"Did you miss me?" Darrian asked, scratching the mabari behind an ear. The mabari responded with a soft bark than licked the elf's fingers. "I've got a treat for you, boy. Its not too tasty, but its tough. You can chew on it for awhile."

Darrian removed his hands to dig in his pack, bringing out a sizable chunk of jerky that he shoved between the bars. The mabari gave out a joyous bark and began to gnaw on the meat.

"Where did you come from boy? Your master was good to you?" Darrian asked, watching the hound chew. "I bet you thought of him as a friend, not a master. That's what I hear about mabari. Did you get to run the Wilds?"

The mabari stopped chewing long enough to give an affirmative bark. Darrian's ears perked.

"Really? You did? That's great. I just got back from the Wilds earlier today. It was magnificent. The smells, the twisted trees, the howls of the wolves.." Darrian said wistfully as he leaned against the kennel's fence. The mabari took a break from chewing and laid its head on its paws, closing its eyes and listening to Darrian's voice.

"I met a witch. Have you ever met a witch? I suppose you wouldn't know. They don't usually introduce themselves as such." Darrian smiled slightly. "She was. . . beautiful. I've seen beauty before.. Even in the Alienage. Its not easily noticable, but its there. She was just. . more than that. Cunning. Strong. Yet whimsical. Are all witches like that?"

The mabari opened one eye and gave a slight shrug.

"You're right. Probably not." Darrian picked up a stone and began to turn it over in his hand. "Don't think I'll get to go back to the Wilds again.. Except for tomorrow.. The battle and all that. Did I tell you? I'm a Warden now!"

"Woof!" The mabari responded in approval.

"I know, a worthy goal, isn't it? But don't worry.. I'm gonna come back after the battle. You're my friend. I'm not going to abandon you." Darrian's eyes filled with sadness as he remembered the look in Shianni's eyes when he had told her good bye. The hurt tone of Nesiara's dismissal. The unspoken words between Darrian and his father_. I'm not going to abandoned anyone again. They needed me.. Counted on me.. And I let them down. _He sighed. _Maybe Soris will come into his own now... be the elf he's always been too afraid to be._

Sensing Darrian's distress, the mabari slumped against the fence and gave a pitiful whine.

"Thanks boy. You've already been more of a friend than I deserve." Darrian patted the dog one more time before standing. "Unfortunately, the king wants to see me, for Maker knows what. Stay safe. Promise me?"

"Rauff!"The mabari responded before going back to gnawing the jerky.

"I'll take that as a yes." Darrian smirked, dusted himself off again. _How do I always get so dirty? Its a shame... These pants were green once.. I think? Or where they gray? Maker I can't remember.._

Realizing he was running a bit behind, Darrian broke out into a run heading to the appointed spot. Duncan was already there, leaning over a map with King Cailan and a broody looking fellow with greasy black hair and cold steel armor.

"Yes, Yes. I remember. After the beacon is lit, your men move to flank the darkspawn." King Cailan was saying to the greasy haired shemlen, looking up when he heard Darrian approaching. "Ah, the new recruit! I hear congratulations are in order?"

Darrian bit his tongue and merely nodded.

"I'm sure the Wardens will prosper with you in their ranks." Cailan said approvingly. He than turned back to the map. "Now, who will light the beacon?"

"I have a few of my men stationed there..." The greasy haired shemlen began, his voice harsh and distrustful.

"No. With a task this important, we should leave it to the Wardens. Send ..." Cailan looked at Darrian, obviously seeking his name.

"Darrian." The elf supplied helpfully.

"Darrian. Yes. Thank you." The king nodded. "Send Darrian and Alistair to light the beacon."

"Your Majesty, you rely on these Wardens too much..." The steel armored man spat, narrowing his eyes in Darrian's direction.

"And your lack of trust is pitiful!" Darrian shouted suddenly, causing Cailan and Duncan to look quite shocked. "Its what Wardens do, isn't it? Fight the blight? Has been for centuries! Has a blight ended WITHOUT the Wardens?! NO! So the king has every right and reason to believe in us, and to get that respect in return!"

Duncan placed a hand on Darrian's shoulder, calming him but looking rather pleased. "As intrusive as that was, the lad is right. We Wardens will do this."

"Good!" Cailan glanced at Darrian and offered him a small smile which the elf returned, looking abashed.

The battle meeting ended soon after that. Darrian and Duncan began to walk slowly back to Duncan's tent.

"You are quite brazen. Speaking out against Loghain like that." Duncan mentioned, sounding amused.

"Loghain?" Darrian asked, not having known who that man was. "You mean Loghain Mac Tir?" His face began to blanch.

"Indeed. The very one who helped King Maric save Ferelden from the Orlesian rule."

"And I just tried to tell him what's what... Maker I'm a fool.." Darrian sighed.

"You also stood up to me, if you recall. Not knowing who I was." Duncan said fondly.

"Yes. I remember." Darrian said smirking slightly. "I was this close to kicking you in the shins too."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Just a kick to the shins?"

"Well.. You did have weapons." Darrian shrugged. "I doubt I could of accomplished much else without being overpowered."

"Smart lad." Duncan smiled. His eyes flickered to the bruise on Darrian's chin. "Try to get along with Alistair, won't you? You two are not so different."

Darrian mumbled in assent.

Alistair was waiting for them when they arrived back at the tent.

It took Duncan only moments to fill Alistair in on the King's plan before Alistair protested. "I won't be in the battle? Duncan.."

"It is the King's choice." Duncan insisted in a tone that left no room for arguments.

"Fine. But if the King asks me to put on a dress and dance the remigold, I'm drawing the line." Alistair insisted.

"You don't have the right legs for a dress. At least not for a short one. I know some good tailors. Maybe you can get a long gown made?" Darrian offered helpfully.

"You're not helping." Alistair whined.

"Where is this beacon, Duncan?" Darrian asked, ignoring Alistair's whines.

"In the Tower of Ishal, on the other side of the bridge. Alistair will know the signal to light the beacon."

Darrian nodded."We leave tomorrow?"

"Before the sun." Duncan nodded. "Rest well. You will need it."

Though he tried to go to sleep like a good little Warden, Darrian could not sleep. He could hear Alistair's echoing snores a few feet away, and he envied the shemlen's ability to fall asleep so quickly. Instead, Darrian slipped out of his bedroll and went for a moonlit walk. He found the gate to the Wilds left open wide enough for him to squeeze though, so he did, not really thinking about his actions.

He was smart enough, however, to not travel into the Wilds, he just settled himself on a log by the edge and he gazed up at the luminous moon above. Darrian did not notice the golden eyed owl that settled into a tree nearby, focusing its intense gaze on the solitary Warden.

Sure that he was alone, Darrian slipped off his leather jerkin and began to appraise the bandages on his shoulder. He knew a bit of poultices, though not much, but had managed to fight off the infection he had dreaded earlier. The elf deftly removed his bandages than reapplied a sweet smelling salve. He moved in shoulder in small circles, making sure it wasn't getting stiff, and than reapplied the bandages. Fresh bandages would have to wait until after the battle tomorrow and he could get his hands on some fresh linens.

Darrian let out a heavy sigh as a wolf howled in the distance. "Shianni.. Soris.." He mumbled. "I'm sorry..." Tried as he might, he could not shake the feeling that he had disappointed them, despite the smiles that had given him. He had arrived at the estate too late. He had put Soris in danger with his brazenness. He only hoped that he would be able to go back to Denerim one day, just to see them_. Hah. They'd likely ask if I failed as a Warden. No, they expect me not to come back. I'm dead to them._

Hooooooo... The owl hooted, almost comfortingly.

The elf stood, shrugging into his leather jerkin again, and giving the Wilds one more hungry glance_. Wild and free. I wonder what it would of been like, to be born into that kind of life._

Darrian and Alistair woke earlier then the elf would of liked, getting into their armor quickly and strapping on their weapons. The air was tense this morning as soldiers scrambled about, getting into formation and running last minute errands. The two Wardens hardly shared a word as the battle began, but both of their hearts felt heavy as they made their way to the bridge that seperated the Tower of Ishal from the King's camp.

"Come on. Just across this bridge, right?" Darrian tried to keep his voice steady as he summed up the impossiblity of that task. Huge fiery rocks were being catapulted onto the bridge, causing it to shake underfoot as the two Wardens made their way across. Darrian had taken the lead, being the swifter of the two.

"Augh! I'm on FIRE!" Alistair yelled after they jumped out of the way of the last catapulted stone. He was kicking with his right leg, which had caught fire. Darrian rolled his eyes.

"Than put it out! You have a waterskin!" He yelled over the chaotic noise around them.

"Oh! That's right!" Alistair agreed, sounding relieved. A moment later he was no longer on fire and they had made it across the bridge.

Alistair's face turned grim. "Darkspawn.. They aren't supposed to be this far in.." His voice trailed off at they came up to the tower. The Tower of Ishal stood mostly intact, unlike the rest of the ruins, but the splendor of it was marred by the presence of the filthy little darkspawn around its base. A guardsman ran out to them as they arrived.

"They're in the tower!" He cried, looking terrified.

"What?! Why? They shouldn't be there!" Alistair insisted.

"You want me to tell them to leave?" Darrian asked, smirking grimly as he unsheathed his weapons. "Nicely?"

"Nicely for you is like a boot to the face. So yes." Alistair agreed, brandishing his sword and shield.

With the help of the guard and a Circle Mage, the two Wardens made their way to the tower and than to its upper floors. It had taken what seemed like ages to clear the tower of its darkspawn infection, but the task had been done and no one seemed worse for wear. On the floor level with the beacon they came upon a frightening creature. It stood talled than most houses within the Alienage, and smelled most foul. Huge horns curved back from its monstrous head and its body seemed to be made of nothing but muscles.

"What in the Maker.." Darrian muttered, partial transfixed until the beast came charging at him and he was thrown against a wall by its brutish head.

The ensuing battled moved in unison with the sounds of battle coming from the battlefield below. A hefty clang on Alistair's shield as he blocked a blow that would of surely beheaded him matched the clashing of steel of Ferelden blades against darkspawn steel. The chant-like mutterings of the Circle Mage merged in with the heavy chanting of the Circle mages below. The flash of fire produced by the lone Circle mage a mere echo of the flood of flames produced by the group as a whole. Darrian himself moved in time with the savagery of the Mabari War hounds as they were released upon the Horde. His daggers cutting into the beast's flesh as the hounds dug their teeth into their relentless foes.

The beast eventually fell, due to Alistair working up one last ounce of strength and leaping onto the beast's chest, embedding his blade deep with in its neck, and riding it down as it collapsed.

"The beacon. We've surely missed the signal." Alistair said as he took his blade from the corpse and looked glanced around. It took Darrian only a few moments to locate the beacon, and he quickly lit it. He and Alistair than moved to the great windows and gazed out onto the battlefield, expecting to see a great charging of men.

The darkspawn kept advancing, and the King's army was failing. Just as the realization that no charge was coming the door to the room they were in burst open and the area flooded with darkspawn. Blades clashed, arrows flew, both Wardens collapsed under the pressure the darkspawn presented.

Luck was not on their side...

A fierce cry broke the air, and as both Wardens lay unconcious, awaiting their deaths, they were seized by giant talons and spirited away from the overwheleming odds.

Or was it...?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 : Unlikely Hero

"You watch him girl, he should wake soon. I'm going to deal with that fool friend of his." A voice cackled as there was a low thud indicating the closing of a door.

_What.. Darkspawn don't cackle... _Darrian had begun to come around, his head throbbing less and feeling whole. It took a moment to register the soft bed underneath him, the scent of something bubbling over a fire, and the scent of something sweeter, much closer to him than the fire.

He felt a moistness on his forehead, as if someone was mopping his brow. _Darkspawn don't mop your brow either... at least I hope not! _As cool water dripped down his face, his eyes flickered open. The first things he noticed were the sharp golden eyes below a knitted brow. Than a quick, relieved smile replaced by the usual coolness he had come to associate with that face.

"Morrigan!" Darrian almost shouted, trying to sit up, than realizing he was without a shirt but covered in bandages.

" 'Tis indeed I." The woman said from her seat on the bed beside him. She watched him curiously for a long moment as color spread from cheeks, down his neck, and up to the tips of his ears. He turned his gaze away_. Maker, is this a dream? It has to be, doesn't it? I'm half naked.. That usually implies a dream... _His eyes flickered towards Morrigan, than back to his lap_. Pretty girl... but.. ugh.. _Pain twinged in his skull_. This is too painful to be a dream.. So that means I'm here. Half naked. What in the world happened!_

"How does your memory fare?" Morrigan asked, a satisfied smile on her face as she got up from the bed and walked over to tend to the stew on the fire.

"There... were darkspawn... Wait." Recognition lit in his eyes. Anger washed away the embarrassment he had felt moments before. "The charge never came.."

"Indeed. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field."

Quit the field.

Quit.

"That good for nothing greasy shemlen bastard! He left everyone there to die! If I get my hands on that Maker-forsaken piece of shit!" Darrian shouted, leaping from beneath the covers and standing on the bed, shaking his fist at an imaginary Loghain. It took him awhile to realize he was not wearing breeches either, just his small clothes. Morrigan's gaze had pointed that out to him, as her golden eyes traveled from his toes to the tips of his ears.

"So... Um..." Darrian sat quickly, bouncing a bit on the bed as he did, wishing more than anything for a pair of pants. "Is everyone..." His voice caught in the back of his throat.

"Besides a few stragglers, yes. Everyone is dead." Morrigan replied, her voice not unkind. "All of the other Wardens perished alongside the King. Except for that dull witted friend of yours."

"Alistair..?" Darrian asked, though he thoughts were on Duncan. His kind dark eyes, his unwaivering tolerance for Darrian's initial rudeness. His unending understanding. _No.. No.. He can't of... Not Duncan...He... No... _His thoughts trailed off as Morrigan took a step towards him, leaning down to check on the bandages.

"Did ... Was I badly injured? How did I get out of the Tower?" Darrian asked as Morrigan began to remove bandages.

"You were, but nothing that Mother could not fix. As for the tower, do you not remember being plucked from the highest level by Mother who had transformed into a giant bird?"

"No.. But I wish I did. That would be amazing to see." Darrian said with a smirk, feeling a bit more at ease. He glanced about, than located his clothing folded neatly at the foot of the bed. He hopped off the bed and began to dress.

"Would it? I suppose it does not entrall me as it would you, for I am used to it."

"Can you do it? Turn into a giant bird?" Darrian asked curiously as he strapped his daggers onto his back, than sat on the bed to slip on his boots.

"I...I can transform into much smaller birds. Such as a hawk, or owl." Morrigan's voice faltered.

"Sounds useful. I should go check on Alistair, let the shem know I'm alive?" Darrian asked.

"It would save Mother the trouble of dealing with him. He keep switching from anger to denial." She tutted disapprovingly, but looked up shocked as Darrian took a step towards her and took her hand.

"What do you thi-" Morrigan began, but all Darrian did was give her hand a gentle squeeze and offer her a small smile.

"Thank you Morrigan."

Her cheeks flushed and she pulled her hand away. " 'Twas nothing.. Mother did all the work.."

"Still. You've been kind. I appreciate it." With another smile, Darrian turned and walked away and left the small hut.

"You, You're alive!" Alistair exclaimed as Darrian exited the hut.

"You sound so relieved." Darrian remarked sarcastically.

"Duncan.. the others.. they're all dead.."

"I've been told. Now, what do we do about it?" Darrian asked, crossing his arms and looking pointedly at his senior Grey Warden.

"A sensible question." The elder witch agreed, turning her gaze to the panicking Alistiar.

"What DO you do about it?"

"What can we do... Its only us.. Two Grey Wardens against the Blight.." Alistair sighed hopelessly.

Darrian shook his head in disgust. "Seriously? You don't even want to try? Okay, okay.. How about this. If you could do anything, what would you do?"

"Kill Loghain." Alistair said bluntly, startling himself. "And stop the Blight, but.."

"No buts. What do we need to get revenge on the greasy bastard and fight the Blight?" Darrian asked.

"An army. But-"

"No Buts!" Darrian insisted while the Elder Witch watched on looking very entertained. "How would one get an army? The King's men died at Ostagar."

"Exactly, we can't.."

"No can'ts either." Darrian dug into his pack, and pulled out a few pages of ancient parchment, carefully folded. "Duncan gave me these last night, after the meeting. Do you remember them?"

"The treaties..b.." Alistair found himself about to say but again, instead he clamped his mouth shut.

"Exactly. And have you read them?" Darrian asked handing them over to Alistair.

Alistair looked down at the parchment for a few long moments before a spark lit in his eyes. "Of Course! They bind elves, dwarves, mages into aiding the Grey Wardens!"

"Elves, Dwarves, Mages. This sounds like an army to me." The Elder Witch commented.

"Of Course!" Alistair's eyes brightened still. "And Arl Eamon, his knights weren't there.. He'd still have all his men! I know him, he's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet.."

Darrian smirked. "So lets go build ourselves an army. How hard could it be?" _Maker, I hope I sounded more confident than I feel. _

"We should get moving than.. We have a lot of ground to cover.." Alistair said before turning his gaze to the witch. "Thank you for helping us."

"Will we be having two guests for the eve, Mother, or none?" Morrigan stepped outside, casting her gaze on the Grey Wardens before turning to her mother.

"Our guests are just leaving, and you my dear, will be going with them."

"What a pity- WHAT?!" Morrigan cried, rounding on her Mother. " You can not be serious.."

"You have always wanted to leave the Wilds, this is your chance."

Morrigan raised a suspicious brow to her Mother. "Surely you are not sending me away out of the goodness of your heart. I know you to well."

The Elder Witch looked at Morrigan grimly. "Of course not child. The Wardens need you."

The younger witch was startled by her mother's change it tone, but before she had a chance to reply, Alistair interjected. "Do we have to.. Take her with us, I mean?" He took a step away from with witch, as if fearing she would bite him.

Darrian sighed heavily, hiding his face in his hands. "Alistair. Really. Is now the time for your apostate mania to surface?"

"Apostate what?"

"She'll be useful, if she decides to come." Darrian only glanced at Morrigan before turning his gaze to Morrigan's mother. "I'm not going to force her to come. I would... not deny her the chance either. But it should be her choice. Whether she wanted to leaved the WIlds for years now..."

"Enough. I shall get my things." Morrigan interjected, disappearing back into the hut to appear only moments later, armed with a staff and with a satchel hanging at her waist.

"Wait, wait.. Don't I get a say in this?" Alistair whined, looking back from Morrigan to Darrian.

"Can you cast magic?" Darrian asked him, looking slightly annoyed with his constant complaints.

"Well, no.. but.."

"Would you be complaining if she was a Circle Mage? Approved by the Chantry and all that rubbish?" Darrian continued as he held his hand out infront of him and began inspecting his fingernails.

"Well.. no, I don't think so.. Magic is useful, but..."

"Than shut it. You still have your templar skills, right? If she turns into an abomination, than you can behead her and tell me you told me so." Darrian shrugged. "Besides, don't Grey Wardens always take help when its offered?"

Alistair considered a moment, than nodded. "You're right. I.." He went quiet, but looked contemplative.

"I am overjoyed to have such approval." Morrigan remarked as she turned to her mother.

"Watch the stew on the fire, I do not want to come back to a burned down hut."

"Its more likely you'll come back to no hut at all.

"I..I.." Morrigan stuttered, her brow knitted in frustration and affection.

"I know girl. Go with them. Shape the future with your hands."

With those parting words, the three companions began their trek through the Wilds. At one point, Darrian stopped and turned to them. "Where.. are we going? We've been pretty much just walking in a straight line.."

"To use the treaties." Alistair replied. "Or is that not what you meant?"

"We should go to Lothering." Morrigan supplied. " 'Tis a small village on the edge of the Wilds. A day's journey."

Darrian nodded. "That sounds like a plan than. We can restock and hear the news. I wonder how far the news of the battle has spread_?" I wonder if its reached Denerim... If it will reach Denerim... Will they think I am dead? Will it matter?_ He sighed heavily, his shoulders sinking.

"I have a question, Morrigan?" Alistair said tentatively. The witch gazed at him with a fine eyebrow raised and a slightly bemused expression on her lips.

"I may indulge you, depending on the question."

"...Can you cook?"

"Of course I can cook. Did you not hear me telling Mother about the stew on the fire? It was not a stew of dirty socks!" Morrigan snapped.

"Well, no.. I really didn't think it was... I was merely curious on who would do the cooking when we make camp."

_Is this shemlen serious? This is going to be a disaster, I can tell, yet I can't take my eyes away!_

"I also know how to make forty two deadly poisons, more than half of which are colorless and tasteless." She warned, her eyes narrowing. "Do not think I will do the cooking merely because I am a woman!" She took a step towards Alistair, her grip tightening on her staff.

"You don't have to cook!" Darrian said hastily, stepping inbetween them. "Not every day, anyhow.. We can take turns."

"I know how to make a lamb stew.. the trick is to let it simmer until you can't distinguish between the meat and the potatoes. Its a delicious shade of brown" Alistair offered.

Darrian made a wretching sound as he gripped his stomach. "How about.. I'll cook. The darkspawn would win for sure if the last Wardens fell to poison.." He glanced at Morrigan than to Alistair. "Intentional or no..."

_I don't think I'll ever eat lamb again... Yech. Just the description was enough to turn my stomach_. Darrian shot a glance at the other Warden. _I wonder if he did that on purpose!_

"Rauff!" Darrian turned his head to the sound, his ears perking up, his heart lifting.

No... It can't be...

Moments later, emerging through the trees , came the cinnamon colored mabari war hound charging straight at Darrian, its tongue trailing out of its mouth.

It IS!

Darrian fell to one knee and welcomed the hound with open arms. As filthy as the beast was, smelling of death and fire, he was still a welcome sight to the elf. Darrian threw his arms around the hound's shoulders, burying his face in the hound's neck, his shoulders shaking slightly as he began to laugh.

"I can't believe it! You're alive! You wonderful dog, you!" Darrian exclaimed, now seizing the dog by the face and looking intently into its intelligent eyes.

"A pure breed mabari!" Alistair exclaimed in awe. "It seems to like you." His tone was approving, and he knelt down to pet the dog as well.

"Its the one I helped back at Ostagar.. Before the battle.. I was certain that he..." Darrian's face began to hurt with all the grinning he was doing.

"Mabari are smart like that. Once they've chosen someone, if there is a way back to them, they'll find it." Alistair patted Darrian on his shoulder as the elf hugged the dog again.

"Ugh. Am I to assume we'll be taking this filthy mongrel with us?" Morrigan said disapprovingly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Darrian turned towards her, his grin fading. "It... would mean a lot to me. Its..." He looked at the dog again, than stood up. "I made him a promise. And I plan to keep it. If you don't like it, than head back to your mother."

Morrigan did not react like he thought she would. She did not continue to speak about the dog in a condesending tone, she did not even compare the beast to Alistair. She merely tilted her head, looking mildly curious, while half a smile danced on her lips. "Oh all right. I suppose."

The mabari gave out a joyous bark and began prancing around their heels. The hound caught Morrigan unawares, and managed to slobber all over her outstretched hand.

"Of all the... That is not a proper way to say hello, beast!" Morrigan chastised.

Darrian suppressed a laugh, and drew a hankerchief from his pack. He walked over to Morrigan and reached out to take her hand and wipe the drool from it. Morrigan tugged her hand away in an automatic gesture. "I can do that myself!" She insisted, snatching the kerchief from Darrian as well.

His brow furrowed, than he merely turned away, sounding a tad bit hurt when he mumbled "Okay.." Morrigan made a motion as to reach out to him, but her hand fell to her side and she looked rather cross.

They traveled a bit longer, Darrian and Morrigan remaining silent as the avoided looking at each other. Alistair had taken to a deep silence as well. Only the hounded seemed happy to fill the silence, running about and snapping at bugs as they flew about. As the sun began to set, they found a nice clearing under an outcropping of rock and decided to put up camp there.

Alistair was able to light the fire while Morrigan set up her tent on the outskirts of the campsite. Darrian had spread out his bedroll against the outcropping. "I'm going to hunt."

He stated, than called his mabari to his side before heading off.

Darrian frowned as he carefully sneaked between the trees, stalking a hare.

SNAP!

His foot had landed on a fallen brance and it had broken in two, causing the hare to quickly dart away. Darrian buried his face in his hand_. I grew up in the city. Why did I volunteer to hunt.. I've never been hunting! Stupid, Stupid, Stupid_!

His hound barked happily than took off into the Wilds, quickly disappearing within the underbrush.

"W-Wait!" Darrian called out to his hound, hurrying after him. "Maker, that dog..." He grumbled, losing sight of the hound. "Now I've got to find you too. Today is just isn't a good day, is it?"

Though he seemed unable to chase down game, Darrian was able to pick out edible herbs and mushrooms, almost crying in delight as he unearthed some wild grown potatoes_. This will have to do.. I don't know what I was thinking, believeing I could hunt with my bare hands. Maybe I can pick up a bow in Lothering? Or some fishing line? I guess I'd need to find a lake for that.. or a river.. but I have been fishing before.._

As lost as he was in thought, Darrian did not notice the bush in front of him until he was walking halfway though it. Thorns clawing at his breeches, scratching his arms. "Maker!" He exclaimed, struggling to free himself, and instead he ended up falling face first into the underbrush. Throwing an arm infront of his eyes spared his face much damage, but by the time he got out, he was rather bloody and uncomfortable.

A muffled bark came from behind him. Darrian turned to see the mabari wagging his short little tail furiously, a plump dead hare carried carefully in its jaws.

"Ah, well.. At least one of us can hunt." Darrian smirked, scratching the mabari behind the ears, than removing the hare from its mouth. "Will have to remove the slobber at least. Skin it too. Maybe I can get Alistair to do that..."

The rest of the evening was spent in a pleasant enough atmosphere, for Alistair stayed quiet except to offer to take first watch. Morrigan tutted at Darrian as she noticed his many scratches and scrapes, and spent the time that Darrian prepared and cooked the meal applying salves to his wounds and muttering under her breath about his clumsiness. After a decent meal of rabbit and potatoes, and Alistair fully armored and looking alert, Darrian retreated to his bedroll, staring up at the treebrances above.

_One of the last Wardens.. I don't think I can do this.._

The mabari barked, than laid his head on Darrian's chest, quickly falling asleep.

"Well." The elf smiled slightly. "At least someone has faith in me."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Rumors from a Greasy Bastard.

_Tis most disturbing. _

The witch had watched her new companions in the hours after leaving her mother's hut. Neither one could she understand, and for completely different reasons. Alistair, Morrigan was convinced as an absolute fool. Eager to bring justice, but unaccepting of responsibilty. Much like a child playing at war. Despite being the more senior of the Grey Wardens he was most willing to follow Darrian's orders.

The elf, on the other hand, Morrigan found fascinating. During her jaunts into civilized lands, usually in animal form, she had not come across anyone like him. The humans have all be ignorant fools, minds filled with unimportant things such as idle gossip or the latest fashions. The elves have all be all to happy to serve their employers for just a bit of coin. Darrian seemed to be neither of those things. He was kind, hard, compassionate, yet unrelenting. Never in her days would she of even dreamed of encountering one such as he. Nor did she like the way his smile made her smile.

During their first meeting he had impressed her, which was not an easy feet. She had not known what to think of the recruits who was trudging through her wilds, slaying darkspawn and searching for treaties. She had been sure he was just a nobody, not worthy of her attention, and yet she followed. It surely wasn't for Alistair or the other two recruits she had followed. They had nothing that would have drawn her eye. It was Darrian, and his aura of confidence, and the saddness buried deep within his blue eyes. More than anything she had wanted to know why he put on such an act... Than it occured to her. Was he a kindred spirit? Did he believe as she did? That emotion was weakness, unable to stop the sadness from coming so instead stifled it deep within his heart?

He spoke to her kindly as she showed him out of the Wilds, he had spoken of magic and his expectations which she had broken. There was a moment there, she could of asked him about himself, about before the Wilds and the Wardens, but Morrigan did not. She did not know how.

She was certain she would not see him again once he left the Wilds. The he would surely die against the darkspawn horde, or disappear with the rest of the Wardens to parts unknown. That was why she had snuck out of her Mother's hut while her mother slept. Why she had shapeshifted into that owl and had gone to the edge of the Wilds. Her intention was just to see the ruins, to hope to catch a glimpse perhaps. Morrigan did not expect to see Darrian sneaking through the gates, heading back towards her Wilds.

Her heart had lept as she settled into a tree and watched him. What is he doing? She had wondered. Why is he alone? She watched him dress his wound, surprised to see such an injury upon his person. The elf had certainly not seemed injured when she had met him earlier. He did not stay long, to Morrigan's distaste. Perhaps she should of talked to him than, asked him why he was so fascinated by the Wilds, if it was perhaps her he had been hoping to see?

_No, 'tis foolish to want such a thing_. Morrigan had told herself before heading back to her Mother's hut. She had all but banished thoughts of him from her mind when her Mother returned the next day, with both Wardens in tow. Darrian had been the more heavily injured, being of slighter build than Alistair, blood was covering his face and torso. His armor had been ripped and torn, exposing injuries that Morrigan assumed were given to him by the darkspawn blades.

After the initial healing, Darrian had a fitful sleep. He had called out something about a shemlen bastard, and the name Shianni. He had made feverent grabbing motions as if trying to stop someone from walking away, only than to succumb to fever with tears streaming down his cheeks. It was seeing him like this, that had made her agree to accompany them so readily, that and the elf's insistance that if she did not want to come, he would not force her.

She had listened amused while Darrian convinced Alistair to agree, thinking that the elf had picked just the right arguments to make Alistair give in. It was most impressive.

There was that moment she had denied his kind gesture, denied Darrian the chance to tend to her as she had tended to him. Morrigan had not expected him to react so when the mabari slobbered on her hand, she had not expected to hear that hurt tone from his voice when she withdrew her hand from his. The rest of the day was spent in silence, and those were some of the longest hours she had spent in a long while.

The first night at camp he had come back covered in scratches, offering no explanation except a casual shrug and a mention of clumsiness. While he cooked, Morrigan had set about cleaning these tiny scratches, surprised at how much she enjoyed the feeling of his flesh under her fingers, how pleased she was when he had turned to her and thanked her.

And now they were almost to Lothering, just a mere couple of hours walk. Morrigan vowed to watch Darrian closely, half hoping he would not live up to her high expectations, half dreading that he would...

They made their way down the stone highway that led right into Lothering. Darrian was once again in the lead, with the mabari at his heels. He was more fascinated than he ought to be by the farmland they had passed. He even stopped them at one point, and quickly scaled a wooden fence and plucked several pears from the branches hanging above.

Alistair looked torn between adonishing Darrian for stealing and delight at the thought of fresh fruit.

The elf passed the pears around, pulling a small knife from his belt and cut out bite sized pieces before popping them into his mouth.

Alistair stared at his pear, his mouth watering. "This isn't right... We should pay for these.."

Darrian sighed. "We haven't the time to find the farmhouse. Do you know what direction its in?"

"Well...no..."

"Look, if someone comes up to us and asks us about their missing pears, I'll pay for them than. Otherwise, its a shame to let the darkspawn ruin all that fruit." Darrian shrugged, cutting another piece off of his pear.

"A wise attitude." Morrigan agreed, taking a bite from her fruit. "We must keep our strength up after all. "

Alistair slipped into his quietness again, turning the fruit over many times in his hand before taking a bite.

"Hold there!" A grinning shemlen clad in a mismatched set of leather armor called from ahead of them. Behind him were a group of similarly dressed shemlens, along with abandoned wagons and the dead body of a man in heavy armor.

Bandits.

Darrian narrowed his eyes than strode forward.

_Picking on the refugees no doubt... The poor, the ones who just lost their homes. I will not stand for this._

"A mere ten silvers and I'll let you pass." The man said easily, eyeing Darrian's group and speaking to Alistair as if he was the leader.

The mabari and elf both growled.

"What, Are you toll collectors?" Darrian asked, stepping infront of Alistair and drawing the head bandit's attention to him.

"Yes, that's exactly it. Paying to repair the royal highway infact." He nodded enthusiastically. Darrian looked down at the highway they had arrived on, his gaze landing on the missing stones and overgrown grass.

"Right..." Darrian agreed sarcastically.

One of the other bandits grabbed the head bandit's shoulder. "They don't look like refugees. Perhaps we let these ones past?" His eyes flickered to Darrian's daggers, Alistair's long sword, the hound's sharp teeth, and Morrigan's superior glare.

"No no, toll applies to everyone. If it was just for refugees, it would be are refugee tax." The head bandit explained.

"Oh. " The other bandit agreed stupidly.

_Shemlens, I swear. Just when I start believing they're not all stupid... they go proving me right._

"Now, about those ten silvers? If you don't have the coin, we could think of..." The bandit's gaze traveled to Morrigan, starting on her pale neck and travelling down to her cleavage where it lingered. "... Another method of payment."

Morrigan's face went red, and she clutched her staff, beginning to mumble in an unknown tongue.

Before Morrigan could complete her spell, she noticed Darrian and Alistair rushing forward, their weapons unsheated.

The head bandit barely got his sword up in time to block Darrian's dagger strike, only to be knocked down by a sweep of Alistair's shield. The elf parried the bandit's blow, his gaze fierce as he advanced closer.

"A woman is not a bargaining chip! A woman is not meant to be bought and sold!" Darrian raged, slashing the bandit across the chest.

The hound now joined in, rushing forward and pouncing on one of the other bandits as he had began to take aim with a crossbow.

"Foolish boys." Morrigan muttered, finally finishing her spell. A dull gray haze emitted from her staff and all of the bandit's eyes began to droop. Than they began to wobble on their feet, finally falling to the ground and emitting loud snores.

Darrian blinked, his surprise overriding his rage. "Wow. That's useful. Now than." He kneeled down by the head bandit and stabbed him in the throat. His snores were replaced by gurgling sounds, than he was silent.

"Maker's Breath! What are-" Alistair began, but stopped himself, comprehension dawning. "You're right. If we let them live, they'll keep pulling this scam." He sighed heavily, than thrust his longsword through the chest of the bandit closest to him. "...Ugh."

After all the bandits were dead, Darrian searched the bodies, coming up with a few gold soveriegns and an amulet. "It should get us rooms at the inn." He said with a satisfactory tone. "And a bath.." He wrinkled his nose at his own smell. Alistair chuckled.

"That does sound good." Alistair agreed.

Unfortunately, a room at an inn and a nice hot bath were not in their near futures. As they advanced into Lothering proper, it became apparent that the small village had been overrun by refugees fleeing the darkspawn horde. Everywhere they looked there was a tent pitched, a beggar moaning, or a templar warning them that there was no room anywhere for anymore refugees.

_Well, that's disappointing.. _Darrian sighed.

"We need to get supplies and move on than. Another night on the road." Darrian announced. "I think I heard that one farmer say there was a merchant in town...?"

"You bought these goods from these very people last week! And now you offer to sell it back at double the price!?" An outraged Chantry Sister was fussing at an annoyed looking Shemlen merchant.

"You there. You look handy with a blade. 100 silvers if you drive this old lady off." The merchant caught Darrian's eye and called out to him. The elf smirked and walk towards them.

Alistair moaned. "We're not really..."

"Your profiteering ruffling some feathers?" Darrian asked as he came to a stop infront of the merchant.

The shemlen smirked slightly. "You could say that."

"This man... He is charging outrageous sums for the things these poor people need!" The Chantry Sister cried.

" 'Tis survival of the fittest. Anyone would do the same in his shoes." Morrigan stated simply.

"Not everyone, Morrigan." Alistair replied, looking put off by the idea of siding with the merchant.

"Well, what's it going to be? Will you take the 100 silvers and drive her off?" The merchent asked again, focusing on Darrian.

The elf considered, than turned to the Chantry Sister. "Can you top it?"

"W-What?!"

"Can you top it? Pay me more?" Darrian mimed out as if he was talking to a slow child.

"No, that's outrageous!" The Chantry sister looked outraged as she glanced from the merchant to Darrian. Finally she threw up her hands. "Fine. FINE. Have it your way!" The woman left, scuffling back to the Chantry, mumbling under her breath.

"Good. Here's your 100 silvers than." The merchant smiled, looking pleased as he handed Darrian the coin.

"And a discount." The elf insisted.

"Well, of course. But only to you. Still need to make a profit." The merchent agreed. Moments later they were stocked up on poultices, food, and bath soaps in case they came across a relatively clean river.

As they stepped away from the merchent, Alistair looked down at Darrian and frowned. "You are not a nice person."

Darrian raised a brow. "Don't remember saying I was. Life is hard Alistair. Get used to it."

Morrigan gave Alistair a look behind Darrian's back, smirking slightly. The witch was obviously pleased.

"Oh, of course YOU agree with him. You're evil." Alistair grumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets and kicking a stray stone.

"Come on. We shouldn't bicker. We need to find out some news." Darrian lead them forward, certain that they were making faces at each other behind his back like children.

"Did you hear about the Wardens?" One shemlen was saying to the another.

"You mean about them betrayin' the King at Ostagar?" The bearded man replied, sounding dismissive. "Don't believe a word of it."

_Wait. What?_

Darrian had been a couple of steps away from them, but halted and backtracked to listen to the rest of their conversation.

"Its what Teryn Loghain says. Ya gonna doubt Teryn Loghain?"

"Yeah, I just might at that. My grandfather was a warden. They don't go off and abandon people to the blight, ya know? Don't care who says it. Chantry priest, the Queen's regent. Don't believe it."

"You're daft than. I ain't going against the word of Loghain!" The first shemlen said fearfully.

_Betrayal... the wardens... _

"THE DIRTY, LYING MAKER FORSAKEN GREASY SHEMLEN BASTARD!" Darrian suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, scaring the two gossipers off and causing quite a few other people to look in his direction.

Alistair put a hand on Darrian's shoulder. "Come on. There's a tavern. Lets have a drink and calm down." By the tone of his voice, it was clear that Alistair did not approve of what those two men had been gossiping about either. He pulled Darrian into the tavern called Dane's Refuge. The shemlen warden than led them to a small table near the stairs to the upper level. They sat around the small table, the hound laying his head on Darrian's lap while giving Morrigan puppy dog eyes.

"I'll get us some drinks." Alistair decided, and headed to the bar.

"That bastard..." Darrian sighed, burying his face in his hands, trying to calm himself.

"So you said. I believe your term was dirty, lying maker forsaken greasy shemlen bastard, to be exact." Morrigan replied, the ever present smirk still on her lips. Darrian smirked as well.

"Well, he is. Cowardly too. Should of put that in."

"Just keep it in mind for next time. I am sure the opportunity to curse that man will arise again."

"He quit the field, Morrigan. He left the king to die. He left Duncan to die... And he's blaming the wardens.. he's blaming Duncan?" Darrian looked across the table at Morrigan, his eyes full of quiet rage.

"No, not Duncan. He's blaming you." Morrigan replied, looking unchararistically sympathetic.

"Me? Wh-oh Maker!" Darrian cursed, slamming his head down on the table. He than fell silent.

Morrigan reached over to him, looking shocked as she grabbed his hair and lifted up his head. "You are going to dent the table." She warned.

Darrian grinned. "Not my head?"

"No, your head is much harder than this table. And perhaps the floor." Morrigan jested.

"You're so kind." He chuckled, than sighed again. "Loghain is blaming Alistair and I.. because we are the only survivors? Some of the only survivors?"

"And the only ones who could reveal his treachery at Ostagar." Morrigan nodded. "A cunning man. He did not become a great hero of his time by sitting idly by."

"No, that's how he became a dirty, COWARDLY, traitor." Darrian agreed, sulking than returned with three tankards. He placed gave one to Darrian and placed one infront of Morrigan before taking his seat besides the elf.

"Do you think what they said was true? That Loghain is..."Alistair stopped, looking so disgusted that he could no longer form the words.

Darrian nodded. "Just listen to the people in here."

"The Wardens betrayed the King! Loghain said so!" A random voice from the crowd exclaimed.

"The outrage! At least we have Teryn Loghain as the Queen's regent now!" Another agreed.

"They would of stopped the blight at Ostagar, if not for the Wardens..."

Darrian covered his ears like a child. "I can't stand to listen to it."

Alistair patted the elf's back, trying to be reassuring.

"There he is." The door to Dane's Refuge opened, and several armed and armored men came filing in. The one obviously in charge pointed straight to Darrian as he spoke. "He meets the description exactly."

"Captain, haven't we been askin' all over town for an elf by this very description?" One of the other knights said, his frown doing nothing for his ugly face.

"Indeed we have. Seems like we've been lied to boys."

Darrian sighed heavily. _I do not have time for this_.

"We're here to make you pay for your treachery at Ostagar!" The Captain said with an evil glint in his eye. "By orders of Regent Loghain."

In an instant, Darrian had slid his chair back and stood, a dagger unsheated and pointed at the Captain's nose. "You know nothing of treachery! And I will not go without a fight!" Alistair than stood as well, removing the shield from his back and his sword from its sheath.

"Oh, more fun!" Morrigan commented as she stood as well. The hound bared his teeth and growled menacingly.

"My tavern!" The barkeep exclaimed.

"Gentlemen, please!" A heavily accented feminine voice called out, and a red headed chantry sister inserted herself between Darrian and the Captain. "There's no need for this, surely there must be some other way..." She pleaded.

Darrian's ears were deaf to her pleas as he narrowed his eyes on the Captain. Suddenly, the Captain striked, knocking away several tables with his great blade. Darrian jumped backwards, flipping in the air and landing gracefully on the banister of the stairwell.

"My business..." The barkeep moaned as bystanders began to flee the bar.

"You will not get away by dancing!" The Captain called aggressively, hurrying after Darrian.

"I do not intend to get away." Darrian said, his gaze locked on something just over the Captain's shoulder. As he finished speaking, the Captain opened his mouth to retort, but no words came. Instead he gave a grunt of pain and sank to his knees before falling forward, an arrow sticking out his back. The red haired chantry sister slung her bow back over her shoulder and sighed.

"He should of listened."

Alistair, Morrigan and the mabari hound made short work of the other three guards, than Darrian moved to join them.

"You didn't need to interfere." Darrian said crossly to the chantry sister.

"I could not stand by and watch him attack innocent people!" She exclaimed. Darrian concentrated a moment, trying to place the woman's accent. Orlais!

"Well, thanks than. We better be going." Darrian turned to walk away, but she grabbed him by the arm.

"Wait! You're going to stop the blight, aren't you?"

"That... yes. That's the eventual plan." Darrian replied slowly, his brow raised.

"Than I am coming too. The Maker spoke to me and told me too." The sister nodded.

"Ahh..." He glanced around at his other companions and was pleased to note he wasn't the only one looking at the Sister as if she was crazy.

_Why do I always meet the crazy people? _

"I must sound crazy, I know! But its true! I can help! I want to help!" She pleaded, grabbing Darrian's hand.

"You're a chantry sister. You can help by doing... Chantry stuff."

"What good will that do if the darkspawn comes and everyone is slaughtered!" She retorted with such earnestness in her eyes.

"Uh... not much, I guess.." He really did not want to take her with them, she sounded crazy, but he remembered what he had said to Alistair when Morrigan joined them. Don't Grey Wardens accept help whenever it is offered? He sighed. "Fine. You can come. I'm Darrian. This is Morrigan. And Alistiar." He introduced everyone in a monotone voice.

"And I am Leliana."

"Good for you. Come on." Darrian waved, and led them out of the tavern, the poor barkeep still mourning the loss of his barroom furniture.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight : Questionable Intentions

The party split up shortly after Leliana joined them. Morrigan and the hound going to purchase herbs the witch said were "Sorely needed." Alistair had decided to accompany Leliana to the Chantry, to pay their respects to the Reverend Mother. Darrian now stood alone in the center of town, looking somewhat lost.

_I could do some scouting. He considered. But considering how my hunting went, I'm likely to turn up dead_. Darrian chuckled slightly, decided to go to the edge of town anyway. He was curious, and somewhat worried, about what the road ahead might offer.

As he stepped outside of Lothering proper, wishing that at least his hound was with him, the elf noticed a tall single person cage strung up by the village's exit. And inside was the biggest man Darrian had ever seen.

_No, its not a shemlen.. He's too large, and his skin, its gray! _His curiosity getting the better of him, Darrian approached the cage. The creature within merely watched him with dark, hard eyes.

"What are you doing in there?" Darrian asked curiously.

"Sitting. As you can see." The creature replied in a rather monotone voice. Darrian narrowed his eyes slightly, though he was amused.

"Okay, I'll rephrase. Why are you sitting in a cramped cage, barely big enough to hold you, and not at the tavern having a drink?"

"I murdered a farmer and his family. This is my punishment."

"..." Darrian stared at the creature for a long moment, shocked by his audacity. "Really. Who locked you in there? Did you get a trial? Are they going to move you when they evacuate the town for the blight?"

"You ask many questions, basra." The creature replied, finally getting to his feet. Darrian's gaze followed the giant's head upwards and the elf felt very small indeed. "I put myself in the cage as atonement. There was no trial, I confessed. And I doubt the Reverend Mother would seem it fit to release me, darkspawn or no."

Darrian's throat went dry. Not at the thought of the creature murdering a family, or the fact the creature turned himself in, but because the Reverend Mother would leave him to die. "She... She's willing to leave you to be torn apart by darkspawn? Unable to defend yourself?" He asked, his anger building as he said each word.

"It would seem so."

"If I got you out.. Would you help me?" Darrian asked, his neck beginning to hurt as he stared up at the creature.

"Help you how?" The creature raised a brow ever so slightly, sounding only the tiniest bit curious.

"Fight the Blight. I'm a Grey Warden." Darrian replied. Wow. _It feels weird calling myself a Warden, but its true, isn't it? I drank the blood, been having nightmares... _

"You? A Warden?" The creature scoffed, disbelieving. Darrian's ears went red with embarrassment.

"Yeah, A Warden. One of the last of my kind. Sorry if you're getting a runt and not the pick of the litter!" Darrian snapped. "I was trying to offer you another way to atone. Being strung up like a chicken isn't going to make things better. Saving thousands of lives, now that is atonement!"

The creature grew quiet, watching Darrian with even more curiousity. "If you can get her to release me, I will follow you against the Blight." He said at last.

"Good. I was going to get you released regardless." Darrian turned on his heels, heading towards the Chantry with an obviously displeased look on his face.

"Darrian, there you are, are you ready to leave?" Alistair inquired as Darrian passed him and Leliana. Morrigan was approaching as well.

"No." The elf continued towards the Chantry.

"Wait, why? What's going on?" Alistair asked in a slightly panicked voice, exchanging a glance with Morrigan behind Darrian's back.

"I need to have a chat with the Reverend Mother."

"We just did... What's going on?"

"I've found religion." Darrian remarked sarcastically, pushing the doors to the Chantry open.

"That's wonderful!" Leliana exclaimed.

"No, not for him its not.." Alistair shook his head at the girl. "Something's wrong.."

Darrian did not answer any more questions, and headed to the back of the Chantry where the Reverend Mother was sitting quietly.

"Good Da-" The elderly woman said, turning towards Darrian, but stopping when she noticed the hate in his eyes.

"Shut it. I want the key to the cage at the edge of town." Darrian insisted, pointing in the general direction of the cage.

"Wh- You mean the Qunari? I am not releasing him. He murdered an entire family." The Reverend Mother replied dismissively, turning her back to Darrian.

"So you leave him out there to DIE!? You are aware the darkspawn are coming? He'll be torn apart, defenseless!" Darrian cried out, an outraged red flush creeping up his neck.

"I am leaving his fate up to the Maker." The Reverend Mother turned back towards him, looking angry as well.

"It makes you a murderer!" Darrian insisted, taking a step towards her. Alistair reached out and grabbed the elf's shoulder.

"Hey, calm down. It's her right.." Alistair said quietly, his brow furrowed.

Darrian took a deep breath. "I have a better use for the prisioner. He can help us fight the Blight."

"Fight the Blight... No, are you Grey Wardens?" The Reverend Mother asked, sounding suspicious.

"Yes."

"Than I definitely will not aide you. I cannot be caught giving help to the Grey Wardens. Regent Loghain would not stand for it..."

"WHAT DOES LOGHAIN HAVE TO DO WITH THIS SHIT?!" Darrian exploded, reaching forward and grabbing the Reverend Mother by the front of her robes, pulling her down to his level. "YOU WOULD LEAVE A HELPLESS MAN TO DIE, WITH OUT A TRIAL BECAUSE YOU CANNOT BE BOTHERED WITH ANY OTHER FORM OF PUNISHMENT, THAN YOU ALLOW THAT GREASY SHEMLEN BASTARD.."

"Don't forget cowardly." Morrigan interjected, looking amused.

"COWARDLY SHEMLEN BASTARD TO POISON YOUR THOUGHTS AGAINST THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN END THE BLIGHT?! DO YOU CARE FOR YOUR FOLLOWERS? OR ONLY YOUR OWN HIDE?"

"How dare you treat me this way, Elf!" The Reverend Mother spit out, struggling to get out of his grasp.

Darrian released her robes, shoving her backwards into her chair. He unsheated the knife he had used on the pears and aimed it at her throat, his eyes still full of rage.

"Are we threatening priests now? What fun!" Morrigan commented.

"Darrian, what in the Maker!" Alistair cried, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"You can deny my request because I am a bastard. You can deny my request because the Qunari is a murderer and you fear for the safety of the villagers. You WILL NOT deny me because I am a Grey Warden!" Darrian hissed, pressing the blade against her throat. "Now give me the damn key."

The Reverend Mother's eyes were wide in horror as she dug into her robes, bring out a large steel key. "Here, take it. Begone with you!"

Darrian snatched the key away, resheated his knife, than left the Chantry as quickly as he had come into it.

"I can't believe you just did that! You threatened the Reverend Mother! What is wrong with you!" Alistair yelled as he followed Darrian.

"She is a kind and caring woman, how could you draw a weapon on her!" Leliana joined in, sounding just as displeased.

Darrian ignored them both and went to the qunari's cage.

"I have the key." Darrian passed it to the qunari inside who used it to release himself from the cage. The qunari stepped out and glanced down at Darrian.

"As promised, I will follow you against the blight. You may call me Sten."

"I'm Darrian. Evil incarnate, according to those two." He indicated Leliana and Alistair behind him. "Welcome aboard."

"You may call me Sten."

"Riiiiiight." Darrian agreed. "Come on than. Lets get out of here."

They were soon back on the road, traveling a safe distance away from the King's Highway, as to not run into any more of Loghain's men. Darrian had not spoken a word to anyone since Lothering but his sharp, elven ears could pick up every word spoken between Leliana and Alistair.

"He actually threatened the Reverend Mother! How awful!" The Orlesian wench drawled out, sounding quite put off.

"Well.. Yes. He did." Alistair agreed, sounding as if he wished he was anywhere but in this conversation.

"Why are you following him than? Surely it can't just be because he's a Grey Warden.." Leliana insisted.

"Why are you following him, than? You're the one who practically begged to come along." Alistair almost snapped back. "And don't let just one encounter with the man dull your impression of him. I don't agree with threatening the Reverend Mother either. But did you listen to his reasoning?"

"He wanted that qunari murderer freed!"

Sten sighed heavily.

"He wanted Sten to have a chance to not die a horrible horrible darkspawn death." Alistair corrected. "The Grey Wardens have taken on criminals before, and Sten doesn't seem hostile towards us." He shrugged. "And the reason I follow him is because he makes the hard decisions. Some one has too."

Darrian found himself smiling in spite of himself for a moment, than he shook his head and went back to his brooding.

"Well... yes... but there are other ways to go about it.. The Reverend Mother, I could of talked to her.." Leliana protested.

"Than why didn't you? You were there. You heard what he wanted before the threat. Yet you sat there." Alistair reminded her. "And stop badgering me about this, all right? Make your own decisions about the fearless leader. I will make mine."

"What are yours, exactly?"

"..."Alistair paused, looking thoughtful. "He's exactly what the Grey Wardens need to get running again." He replied in such a tone which indicated there would be no more discussing this.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine : Of Dwarves and Kings..

They found a good campsite near the edge of Lake Calenhad. Darrian had decided to go to Orzammar first, the home of the dwarves, and ask for their aid. He didn't really have much of a reason for that decision, but he didn't really need one.

Once the tents were erected and food was gathered, Sten proved to be a worthwhile hunter and showed Darrian some tricks, Leliana approached Darrian with a disapproving frown on her face.

_Maker. What does she want... _Darrian sighed, poking at the venison cooking in the pan.

"I want to speak with you." She said simply, sitting down besides Darrian, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down her nose at him, obviously disapproving.

"You should take lessons from Morrigan. She has a much better superiority face, Sister." Darrian commented, only glancing at Leliana before looking back at the food, flipping the meat to make sure it didn't burn.

"Wh-What... Never mind." Leliana was momentarily startled, she shook her head to regain her composure. "I want to know why you threatened the Reverend Mother."

"I don't have to answer to you, do I?" Darrian said idly, not really wanting to participate in this conversation. "And didn't you ask Alistair this? I thought his answer sufficed."

"Yes. Alistair did give me what he thought were your reasonings." Leliana frowned, tucking that annoying little braid in her hair behind her ear. "I want to make sure he isn't blindly following you because he had no one else to follow."

Darrian narrowed his eyes as he turned to Leliana. "Don't speak about Alistair like that. He has a mind, he knows what he's doing. If he doesn't wish to share every thought with you, than that's his damn business. Keep your shemlen nose out of it."

Leliana looked put off, but snapped back, raising her voice. "He speaks of you with respect, though he doesn't agree with your choices. I will not understand this. Will you go through any means to reach your ends?"

Darrian suddenly stood up, staring down hard at the Chantry Sister. "Yes."

"You selfish bastard! The Reverend Mother was a good woman! A kind woman!"

"You only see what your pathetic shemlen eyes want you to see. Yes, I am a bastard. But no, I am not selfish. There are many sides to a die, Sister. Its the same with people." Darrian snapped back. "She was not kind to Sten. She was more than willing to let him get ripped apart by the darkspawn."

"Yes, but his crime.."

"She was not so kind to the Grey Wardens, believing the propaganda that the greasy bastard is spreading around like shit!"

"She has to worry about all her people..."

"And what of you, Chantry Sister?" Darrian asked in a mocking tone. "You asked to follow me. If you disagree with me, than you can take your pale shemlen ass back to Lothering."

"No, the Maker told me to follow you!" Leliana insisted, rising to her feet as well.

"So you'll follow me blindly?" Darrian asked.

"No! That's why I am..."

"Lecturing me. Yes. I got that." Darrian sighed, putting his face in his hands. "I am not a good person. I am not a kind person. I am the product of a harsh life, and I don't believe you are one to judge... Sister." The tone he used for the word Sister was sarcastic.

"What do you mean by that?" Leliana asked, somewhat hesitantly.

"You are obviously no Sister. At least not from any Chantry I have ever been too. You abandoned your people to follow a... and I quote... selfish bastard... on his semi-impossible quest. You use the bow and arrow like a trained hunter, and you have not once called Morrigan an apostate." Darrian pointed out the obvious.

"Not all sisters... And I am just a lay sister. I have taken no vows."

"So you play at being a priest than? Well, no wonder you left. You're awful at it." Darrian replied simply, kneeling down to the pan and scraping the now burnt venison off of the bottom. He threw it to the mabari, who was happy to have something to chew.

"How dare you insult me!"

"And how dare you beg to follow me, than insult me in my camp. I do not need to answer to you. I honestly don't give a damn what you think of me." Darrian shrugged.

"Of all the nerve.." Leliana stalked off, heading to her tent and closing the flap rather roughly.

"You do not play well with others." Alistair said with a smirk as Darrian put a new piece of venison on the pan.

"Its what makes me special." Darrian said with a grin.

"Special. That's one way to put it." Alistair sat down next to Darrian, his brow furrowed. "... You alright?"

"Course. Yelling at fake priests always brightens my day." Darrian replied, flipping the meat over.

"No, I'm being serious. You've... been brooding. And you haven't talked to Morrigan for most of the day. Look, she's pouting." Alistair pointed in Morrigan's direction. She was sitting by her tent, immersed in a spellbook, but the faint tinge of pink on her cheeks hinted that she might of been looking their way until just moments ago.

Darrian sighed. "Damn it, Alistair." He muttered, looking pleased. "You aren't as dense as you look."

"Its what makes me special." Alistair replied, grinning broadly.

"Special. That's one way to put it." Darrian smirked, and Alistair hit him on the shoulder.

"No using my lines against me. Now come on. What's bothering you?" Alistair asked as Darrian dished out the venison on seperate plates for everyone.

Darrian glanced at Alistair, his brow furrowed, not sure if he wanted to talk about it. However, his mouth opened and he began to speak before he knew what he was saying. "What isn't bothering me?"

"Ah well, that's not really an answer." Alistair pointed out.

"I know. It's just.." Darrian sighed heavily, shaking his head. "It hasn't been easy. You were with the Wardens for what? Six months?"

Alistair nodded. "Give or take."

"I've barely been a Warden for not even a month now. Did Duncan tell you, the circumstances of my.. conscription?" Darrian asked tentatively. Alistair shook his head.

"I didn't think so. He wasn't the type to gossip. I was bethrothed. On my wedding day, the Arl of Denerim's son crashed the ceremony, kidnapped my bride, my Cousin's bride, and my other cousin who was a bridesmaid. Soris, that's my cousin, and I broke into the estate, slaughtered every guard we could find, cutting a bloody path to that bastard's room. We arrived too late. One bridesmaid was killed for resisting.. And Shianni.." Darrian's voice broke, his eyes misting.

"Shianni... was your... cousin?" Alistair guessed wildly.

Darrian nodded. "She was broken. In tears. The things he must of done to her..." His fists balled up, his nails digging painfully into his palms. "I killed him. I didn't care, all I could see was red. By the time I got back to the Alienage, the guards had been alerted and they arrived soon after I did. I told them I did it. That I did it all. I was going to be imprisoned. Executed. Probably tortured. But Duncan stepped in. He saved me from that fate because he said he saw something in me." Darrian smiled fondly. "...Its a shame I never got to ask him what it was..."

Alistair gave Darrian an sympathetic glance. "Duncan was like that. He believed in people."

Darrian nodded. "He believed in you too, didn't he? Rescuing you from the Chantry?"

Alistair smiled. "Yes."

They both sat there in quiet for a time, eating their food but not really tasting it. The mabari came over, laying his head on Darrian's lap, drooling on his breeches. Darrian smiled, and scratched the mabari behind the ears. A light lit in the elf's eyes and he turned to Alistair. "Did I tell you, what I decided to name him?"

Alistair shook his head, his mouth full of deer meat.

"Duncan. I've decided to name him Duncan." Darrian said a matter of factly as he patted the mabari on the nose.

Alistair's eyes welled up with tears, and he threw his arms around the elf. Darrian looked quite uncomfortable with this. "Hey.. Let go. Damn it, Alistair, let go!" Darrian pushed Alistair off. "What in the Maker was that for?"

"That's.. a great way to remember him... Sorry.. was caught up a bit in the moment." Alistair grinned.

"Be caught up in the moment over there. You smell like darkspawn guts." Darrian said wrinkling his nose.

"I should take a bath.. But I'm beginning to think I can fell our foes with my stench!"

"If you don't fell me first!"

Soon, both Wardens were chuckling as if they were old friends. Dinner was eaten quickly, Alistair having to bring Leliana her plate because Darrian refused to go near her. After eating, Darrian stood up and stretched. "I'll be back. Gonna take a bath." He told Sten, who had first watch. The Qunari merely nodded. Strange fellow. Hardly says a word. Hey, at least he doesn't harp at me. That's a nice change.

As he headed over the slight hill towards the dark waters of Lake Calanhad, he heard footsteps behind him. Soft steps that he recognized immediately. He turned and smirked. "Morrigan. Hoping to catch me in the midst of my bath? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I haven't gotten to the water yet." He jested.

The corners of Morrigan's mouth twitched upwards in a smile. " You might not believe it, I simply wished to talk." Her tone of voice became softer, more inviting, as she continued. "Though now that you mention it, I suppose I should of slowed my steps."

Darrian turned away quickly, to hide the fierce red flush that had crept to his face.

"You've been distant, Darrian. I wish to know why." She moved to stand beside him, crossing her arms and tilting her head slightly to the side as she did so.

Darrian stared at his feet, trying to will away the blush from his ears. "I... The..." He began, than took a deep breath before starting again. "Its been difficult. I've had a lot on my mind and I didn't want to burden you with it."

"Burden me? What am I, some fragile child who cannot handle the ins and outs of Warden life?" Morrigan insisted, looking cross.

"No, that's not it." Darrian turned to her, a slight smile on his lips. "I just.. didn't think you would be interested in the deep emotional shit that goes on in my brain." He admitted.

"Why wouldn't I be? You are our leader." Morrigan stated, than looked surprised by the hurt that filled Darrian's eyes.

"Leader. Yes." He said softly, shaking his head. The elf turned away, only to have his arm caught in Morrigan's grasp.

Morrigan's brow was furrowed when Darrian glanced back at her. " 'Tis not what I meant. Do not look at me like that... it..." She stopped, a faint blush crawling on her cheeks.

"It... it what?" Darrian asked, turning towards her again. "If its not what you meant, than what do you mean?" He than raised his eyesbrow, smiling rather broadly. "Were you worried about me, Morrigan?"

The witch snatched her hand away, her face fully flushed now. "Of course I was! You... I... Damn it Darrian!"

The elf reached over and took her hands in his. "Will you at least tell me what you're damning me for?"

"For tying my tongue in knots!" Morrigan protested.

"Oh? My hands were never in your mouth, so I don't see how that's possible.." Darrian jested as he pulled her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I promise I won't keep anything fron you anymore, all right?"

Morrigan smiled softly, and simply nodded.

"And I promise to talk to you more than Alistair." Darrian continued. To this, Morrigan smirked.

" 'Tis how it should be." She finally took her hands away.

"Now that we've cleared that up.." Darrian slipped off his armor and stripped the shirt from his back. Morrigan raised a fine brow, watching him.

" And what do you think you are doing?" She asked, somewhat playfully.

"I am going to take a bath. Because I suddenly have the urge to no longer smell like dog shit and death. You're more than welcome to sit about and watch." He winked as he took off his boots as well, tossing them besides his clothes.

"Tempting offer."

"If I didn't smell so badly, I'd really give you a tempting offer." Darrian smirked, placing his hands on his hips, getting ready to slide off his trousers. Morrigan did not move, but watched him, looking amused. Darrian stopped midmotion. "Look. If a beautiful woman like yourself was going to watch me strip down, I would rather it be when I am quite clean and perhaps smelling like roses." Hr insisted, blushing again.

"Oh all right. Another day perhaps." Morrigan smirked, than began to walk away. When she was sure he could not see, she brought her hands to her mouth and kissed the fingertips right where Darrian had only minutes earlier.

_Maker's breath that woman! _Darrian chuckled to himself, finally sliding off his trousers and diving quickly into the late.

"AUGH THAT'S COLD!" He bellowed, thrashing about the water for a moment before he got used to the chill. The elf scrubbed his skin quickly, wanting to get out of the chilly water as soon as possible.

"Maybe I should of asked Morrigan to heat it first..." He mumbled as he pulled himself out of the lake, dried himself, and than dressed. On his way back to camp, he passed Alistair and Duncan headed for the lake.

"How's the water?" Alistair asked.

"Oh, its lovely." Darrian replied, fighting a laugh. Alistair nodded and soon disappeared over the small hill. Darrian waited, than heard a loud yell as Alistair found out that the water was not in fact lovely.

Darrian chuckled all the way back to camp. Not a bad night, considering.

He spread out his bedroll and laid ontop of it. Darrian wasn't aware he had drifted off to sleep until Duncan came to lay besides him, laying his head on the elf's chest and panting loudly, which caused the elf to wake up with a jolt.

"Oh, hey boy." He scratched the mabari behind his ears, and glanced a bit around camp. It was Morrigan's turn for watch, it seemed, and she was sitting by the fire. The flames cast a glow on her pale skin which caused Darrian to stare for quite awhile. She seemed deep in thought as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and flipped through the pages of the thick tome she had on her lap.

Maker...

Darrian watched her til he drifted off the sleep again, and this time he dreamt. He was back in the Alienage, Shianni and Soris besides him as they talked like they always did. Nesiara appeared, walking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his neck, though when Darrian turned to look at her, her face and form had morphed into Morrigan. Darrian angled his face up, and Morrigan leaned down to meet his lips with hers when suddenly a loud roar broke the moment and a huge shadow was cast over them. Darrian looked and saw a gargantuan dragon with sickly green eyes and black, tainted skin. Surrounding the dragon were thousand upon thousand of darkspawn and they rushed into the Alienage, cutting down every elf that was in their way. Darrian attempted to fight them off, but soon realized he had left his weapons, and pants, in Lothering. He could only watch with horror as the horde cut down every member of his family, his friends, than Morrigan.

He woke up screaming as the sun began to rise over the camp site.

"Nightmares?" Alistair asked as he doused the fire. The others were beginning to stir as well. Duncan licked Darrian's face, his warm brown eyes looking worried as he whimpered.

"Maker, yes." Darrian shook his head, trying to get the image of that dragon out of his mind. "That dragon.."

"Its the Archdemon." Alistair supplied. "The nightmares will get worse, the longer you're a Warden, sorry to say."

"Well.. No wonder they don't tell you about it.. No one would join." Darrian sighed. "And the dream started off so well too.." Darrian's gaze fell to Morrigan as she emerged from her tent and stretched. Duncan seemed to sense that she was awake and rushed over to meet her. Luckily, Alistair did not follow Darrian's gaze, or notice the faint blush on the elf's cheeks.

"Yeah.. Some say they have no problems with nightmares." Alistair shrugged. "Doesn't seem like we are that lucky."

"You ever dream you're fighting the darkspawn without pants?" Darrian asked, wanting to brighten the mood as he dragged his gaze away from the witch just as she looked towards him. He began to dress and pack up his tent.

"Nope. Though it would be a refreshing change. Mostly about the Archdemon stealing my cheese and than eating my face." Alistair smiled.

Darrian made a disgusted face. "Ugh."

"My thoughts exactly."

Camp was packed up quickly, though Leliana avoided speaking to Darrian as the preparations to travel were made. The group began their march towards the Frostback Mountains and the Dwarven city of Orzammar. The weather got cooler and cooler as the days went by, and it was a stroke of luck that they met dwarven merchant Bodahn and his son Sandal on the road. They were able to purchase fur lined cloaks, and the merchant agreed to travel with them, for safety. It gave them access to much needed supplies and rumors of what was happening in the world.

During the travels, Darrian had taken up talking to the qunari, finding that the qunari's ideals were interesting even if the elf didn't always agree. Though Sten didn't seem to want to open up about himself much, he always answered questions. His answers tended to be rather blunt and to the point, which Darrian appreciated though it bothered Morrigan to no end.

Since that night by the lake, Darrian had not been able to keep the witch from his mind. He was true to his word, and spent many a night in camp talking to her and discussing magic, the Wilds, anything. Things had not progressed past talking, though they tended to sit rather close to each other, and Alistair had even commented about the way Darrian looked at Morrigan. To which Darrian denied, not very convincingly.

When they arrived at Orzammar's gates, Darrian was surprised to see so many merchants set up around the commons area outside of the gates, each moaning about how Orzammar had shut its gate due to lack of a king.

_If they lack a king.. Damn it, I don't have time for this._

"Open up the gates, and tell your assembly that they should side with Regent Loghain!" A shemlen man was harrassing the dwarven guard who stood watch at the heavy iron gates.

"The gates will not open to anyone while Orzammar is without a king." The guard responded in a tone that suggested he had said that very line too many times today.

"The Regent demands.."

"He cannot make demands of us, even if our gates were open."

Darrian made his way up the stone steps to the gate, narrowing his eyes at the shemlen. "You should listen to him. It sounds like you're not getting in."

"You!" The shemlen pointed at Darrian, eyes wide with shock. He than turned to the dwarven guard. "I demand you cut this man down, he is a Grey Warden and an enemy of the crown!"

The guard did not even honor this with a response, he just crossed his arms over his broad chest and lifted an eyebrow.

"I am tired of all your stupid shemlen spouting lies!" Darrian growled, reaching over and grabbing the shemlen by the front of his shirt and dragging him down to his level. "Go back to your regent and tell him that the Grey Wardens survive. And he will not get away with his crimes."

The armored men behind the shemlen began to unsheath their weapons, but paused as they caught sight of Alistair with longsword in hand, Duncan with his teeth bared and growling, Morrigan giving them her superior glare one hand lit in flames, and Sten with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at them.

"Ah..." The shemlen stumbled, looking terrified. "I'll go.. I promise!"

Darrian shoved him away, and the shemlen and his guards hurried away, mumbling hatefully under their breath.

"Thank you stranger." The dwarven guard turned to Darrian. "He had been at it for weeks. I am glad to be free of him. However, I cannot let you-"

The elf cut him off, taking out the appropriate treaty. "I am a Grey Warden. This treaty obligates the dwarves to lend aid against the blight."

The guard took the treaty in his hands and inspected it. "It does bear the seal of the assembly, meaning they are the only one who can address it. Very well, Grey Warden. Welcome to Orzammar." He gave the signal and the iron gates began to slowly creak open.

Darrian could not shake the feeling of foreboding as he and the others stepped through the gates and into the vast dwarven city. The iron gates were locked behind them, and never had Darrian wanted a breath a fresh air more than that moment.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten : Moment's Peace

Denerim

Things have not been the same since Darrian Tabris left the Alienage with the shemlen Duncan. They had lost their hero, the one who was not afraid to speak out against their shemlen oppressors. Shianni attempted to step into that role, using her own experience at the Arl of Denerim's estate as fuel for her rage. Though she was too proud to admit it, she missed her cousin more than anyone, save for his father.

Soris had looked stricken when they received news that all of the Wardens fell at Ostagar. They cared little that King Cailan had fell, for one shemlen king was like the next, it mattered little. But for Soris and Shianni, to picture their cousin Darrian laying slain amongst the darkspawn corpses it, it tore at their hearts.

_No. I do not believe it_. Shianni tried to convince herself as she went about her day to day life after receiving the news. _Not Darrian. He's stronger than that.. He was supposed to be a hero.._

Only when she was alone, late at night in her bed did she allow herself to weep, crying more than she did the day that he had left. Shianni still recalled the tears that had fallen down her cousin's cheeks, how angry he had been when Vaughn had insulted them, and when he came to her rescue. Covered in the blood of her abductor, Darrian had comforted her, carried her back to the Alienage, He had been so strong. So when he shed those tears for her, she did her best to be strong for him. She hoped that, in his final hours, he had finally gotten some peace and remembered the Alienage, and her, fondly.

Shianni spent endless hours wondering what else she could of done for him, only realizing after he left that their relationship had been one sided. It was always Darrian protecting her or Soris. Guiding them, keeping them strong and happy. Would it of hurt for Shianni to have asked Darrian how he was doing? If his upcoming wedding had seriously bothered him and it wasn't just his boyish nature that caused him to jest about it?

It was weeks after they heard the news of Ostagar that the Alienage heard news that an elven Grey Warden was alive, and had had a run in with Loghain's men in Lothering. Shianni had not wanted to hope, but Soris had sought every man who knew that rumor, plying them for details of this Warden. It soon came to light that it was indeed Darrian Tabris. There was much celebrating in the Alienage that night, though a disturbing number of elves decided not to join, saying that it was foolish for Darrian to speak out against the Regent. That it would cause them more trouble, and they retreated in fear.

Even as Shianni opened her mouth to tell them it was ridiculous to think like that, the Alienage gates had opened, and guardsmen stormed inside. There was a new Arl, they said. The old one had died with his men at Ostagar. And this new Arl, Rendon Howe, would not suffer an uprising in the Alienage.

The elves had protested, the Hahren tried to tell them the celebration was no uprising. The shemlen guards were deaf to his words and gave them harsh warnings and murderous glances. When they left, the celebration ended, every elf retreating into their homes, locking there doors. In the days that followed, only a few spoke of support of Darrian. Cyrion, Soris, Alarith the shopkeeper and Shianni.

Soris was particularly vocal, which earned him much disdain. So much that the elves had taken to blaming him for their misfortune as well. He took refuge in Cyrion's house, escaping only at night to take to wandering around the streets of Denerim, feeling like an outsider amongst his own kind. Still, he would not relent. He refused to believe the negative rumors that floated around about Darrian now. And neither would he back down from the protection he gave his Cousin's name.

Unfortunately, the cruel treatment by the new Arl's men seemed never ending and it was much worse than the terror Bann Vaughn had enacted upon them. This led to a real uprising. The elves had decided not to sit idly by where they were beaten. Shianni had tried to calm them, sensing the danger of such an act, but her words could not reach them, and that night the streets of the Alienage ran red with elven blood. The blood of able men, women, and innocent children. Rendon Howe's cruelty knew no bounds. The gates of the Alienage were locked, no elf allowed to leave, while the rumors escalated about how the elves had once again tried to strike down the new Arl, and that was why they had to be put down like dogs.

_If only you were here, Cousin... You could of stopped them..._

Everywhere Darrian looked there was stone. Stone walkways, stone walls, and the highest ceilings he had ever seen.

_For a short race of people, they sure build high ceilings..._

"I am the rightful heir! I am the only Aeducan left to take the throne!" A red bearded dwarf was insisting, while two heavily armed dwarves nodded behind him.

"King Aeducan on his deathbed made me swear that you would not be made king!" An older, or at least Darrian guessed he was older since his beard was white and longer, dwarf snapped back.

"Gentlemen, please! Leave the fighting to the provings!" A guardsman inserted himself between the two, looking rather frustrated. "Regain control of yourselves! There are outsiders here!"

The two dwarves stepped back from each other, barely glancing in Darrian's direction before heading their seperate ways. The guard sighed.

"Who were they?" Darrian asked him. _Not that I really care... But I doubt they will send me their aid against the Blight if a king is not on the throne..._

"Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmount. Each believes he has every right to sit on the throne, and since the blasted assembly is deadlocked, no decision has been made." The guard glared at Darrian. "Not that it is any of your business, outsider. We do not like the outside world to see Orzammar in turmoil."

"Well, don't worry. Its not like I'm going to go up there and spread rumors." Darrian shrugged. "I'm just here to try to get aid against the Blight."

"Good luck with that." The guard scoffed sarcastically before stomping off.

" 'Tis charming people. Truly." Morrigan said, looking amused.

"Oh yes. I just want to invite them all over for tea and cakes." Darrian grumbled. "Lets find an inn.. Or a bar. Or both. I could use a drink.."

"You drink?" Alistair asked as they began walking. A sign had indicated that a place called Tapster's was up ahead, so that was their destination.

Darrian shrugged. "Not really. But now seems like a good time to start." Alistair chuckled, patting Darrian on the back.

"Anyhow, the bar is probably the best place to get information. It worked pretty good in Lothering, didn't it?" Darrian remarked.

Alistair nodded. "If you call getting into a fight information."

"Might as well. If I didn't, than I wouldn't feel like I was accomplishing anything."

"I know what you mean."

Duncan padded forward to walk by Darrian, the dwarves they were passing gave the mabari appreciative looks. They also gave the others glances, whispering to each other from behind their hands. Darrian was used to this, being an elf from Denerim. Whereever he used to go, people would point and gossip and make him seem out of place.

"Are we truly that interesting?" Leliana commented as a pair of dwarved females burst into a fit of giggles as they passed.

"To them you are. They probably don't see outsiders often. Let alone a qunari, a chantry priest, a witch, a mabari and a couple of Wardens." Darrian replied. "Though, they probably see Wardens more often than the other things.. Since... isn't the deep roads where..." His voice cut off, he did not want to say it. _...where the Grey Wardens go to die._

"I suppose that's true." Leliana looked thoughtful. "This place is fascinating though, don't you think? The architecture, the fashions, oh and the shoes!"

Darrian exchanged a glance with Alistair, and they bought fought back laughter. "Ah, there's a bar. Tapsters."

In front of them was a building that looked as though it was carved right into the rock face. Music and laughter came from inside, accompanied by a strong smell of spirits.

"Whew. It smells like a brewery in here." Alistair commented as they walked inside. A cute blonde dwarf serving wench grinned.

"Probably 'cause it is." She winked, handing her customers some drinks before turning towards Darrian and the others. "Now, what can I do you for? First of all, welcome to Tapsters." She did a sort of curtsy. "Name's Clare."

"Ah.." Darrian glanced at the others, taking a quick count of people. _Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana, Sten...Three rooms? I think that should do it... _"Do you rent rooms here? It looks like we might be stuck here awhile, and it would be nice to have a place to lay our heads."

Clare nodded. "Ya'll the Grey Wardens I heard about? Tapsters would be happy to host you. Rooms are twenty silvers for a week. Breakfast and a mug of ale a day included. We've got single beds, double beds, two beds." She gave Darrian and Morrigan a suggestive wink. "Queen size beds for a bit of rough and tumble."

Darrian's eyes went wide as his face turned red. He coughed. "Three rooms.. Two of the two beds, I think..and a room with a larger bed for Sten?"

Clare looked from Darrian to Morrigan, who again looked amused, to Darrian again before chuckling. "Haven't gotten that far yet, dont cha worry." She winked again than stepped behind the bar, bringing out the room registry. "Lets see 'ere."

She was quiet for a long moment, flipping a few pages back and forth. "Looks like all we've got is queen size beds. I can give ya three of them. Only fifty silver." She winked. "On account of the inconvience."

Darrian fished out the coin and gave Clare sixty silver. "And dinner. And a bath." He asked hopefully.

"Course. Bathtub in every Queen room. Use the pumps to get the water, the kettle to heat it. Will send a couple of trays up." Clare grinned playfully as she handed him the room keys. "Rooms 12, 17, and 18. " She pulled Darrien towards her, whispering in his ear. "I'd take room 12 if I was you. Nice view of the Diamond Quarter, and the softest sheets. Also, privacy." She winked again.

Darrian was certain that his face was going to stay permanently red. He handed Sten the key to room 17.

Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan just stared at him, waiting for him to decide who would room with who.

Morrigan and Leliana would be a logical choice.. they are both female.. but they can't stand each other and Morrigan would hate me.. Darrian sighed. And I do not want to share a bed with Alistair. But I dont want to force Alistair to share a bed with Leliana either... Or Morrigan!

So he just stood there, staring at the keys in his hands while the others began to look puzzled.

"How 'bout I make it easy for ya?" Clare asked, snatching the keys back from Darrian and tossing the key to room 18 to Alistair. "You and Ms. Orlesian can share a room. Don't worry, the bed's big enough ya don't have to touch each other. Though I don't see why ya wouldn't want too."

Alistair's face went flush and Leliana giggled. "It'll be all right, Alistair." She tried to sound reassuringly.

"Now that its decided whom I will be sharing a bed with, may I have our key?" Morrigan asked, turning to Clare. Clare handed it over. "Send dinner in a few hours, won't you? 'Tis been a long journey and I need my rest."

She sauntered up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder once, her golden eyes landing on Darrian before proceeding the rest of the way to their room.

_Maker._

"Try not to get eaten." Alistair leaned down and whispered into his ear. Darrian slugged him in the shoulder.

A few minutes later they had all retreated to their rooms, vowing to get an early start on dwarven politics. Clare had been correct, room 12 had very soft sheets, and the view out the window gave a magnificent glimpse of the fancy noble houses of the Diamond Quarter. Duncan had settled himself on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Darrian threw himself down on the bed face first.

"You should bathe before doing that." Morrigan teased, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

"I thought you were going to bathe?" Darrian mumbled, his face still buried in the pillow. Morrigan grew quiet, so Darrian glanced up at her, surprised to see a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Are you disappointed?"

"Disappointed? You need to be more specific. I'm disappointed I'll never be a buff as Sten. I'm disappointed that I'll never have a magnificent beard, disappointed that-" Darrian began to list off, stopping when he noticed Morrigan's frown.

" 'Tis not what I mean!"

"Disappointed that I am sharing a room with you?" Darrian asked softly. He had known that this was what she was asking all along, but had been unable to resist the urge to tease her. "No. Why should I be? I have no urge to become bedmates with Alistair, and no doubt Leliana would glare at me all night..." He sat up, looking at Morrigan again, who was now glaring at him. "... Though that might not be to different than what seems to be happening now..."

"You insufferable..." Morrigan turned away, suddenly standing her back towards Darrian. "If you would rather room with the qunari.."

Darrian sighed as he rolled over onto his back. "Morrigan, you want honesty? I was nervous."

Morrigan turned towards him, "Nervous?"

"Have you looked at yourself lately? Maker you're beautiful. You'd make any man nervous to share a room with you." Darrian stated bluntly.

Morrigan blinked, looking surprised, but than her facial expression changed to that of her usual amusement. " 'Tis true, I must admit." She smiled slightly. "I will heat up the bath water now, though I hope you do not object to me going first?"

Darrian shrugged. "Ladies first." _And that's all I need, the thought of her, dripping wet. Maker that woman.._

He rolled over to his side, his back facing the tub and water pump. His ears, however, were finely tuned to the sounds behind him. The sound of the water being pumped, than the soft whistle of the kettle, followed by the soft swishing of clothing being removed, than the slight splashing as Morrigan stepped into the tub.

Darrian seized a pillow and placed it securely over his head. What seemed like an eternity passed, the elf filling the time attempting not to think of Morrigan bathing but failing miserably as he was unable to think of anything else.

"I am done." Morrigan was suddenly at the bedside, nudging him in the shoulder. "You seem to of dozed off, having sweet dreams, I trust?"

"Well, it didn't involve me fighting darkspawn with no pants, so that's a good sign." He replied, sitting up. His eyes flickered towards Morrigan before he turned his head towards her. Darrian had wanted to make sure she was dressed, so he did not stare.

"That would be an interesting tactic." Morrigan smirked. "The water is still warm. Magically heated." She motioned towards the bath.

"I'm too tired." Darrian moaned, tossing an arm over his eyes to block out the light.

"Do not be childish!" Morrigan scoffed, pulling his arm away from his face. Boldness overtook him, and he reached out and pulled Morrigan towards him. He felt the smoothness of her back under the rough palms of his hands, their faces within inches of each other.

"Wh-what do you think you're doing?" The witch asked, but did not pull away.

"Well. I felt the sudden urge to kiss you. If you rather I not.." Darrian smirked, lifting his hands away to allow her to move away if she had wanted.

Morrigan did not move away, instead she settled herself against his chest. "I merely asked your intent. I did not say to stop."

Darrian wrapper her in his arms again, his lips rising to meet hers. At first the kiss was tentative, as elf and witch both closed their eyes. He felt Morrigan part her lips so he deepened the kiss, tongues intertwining as he moved a hand through her wet hair and let out a soft moan. Morrigan had wrapped her arms around his neck shortly before the kiss broke. A smile played on her lips now as her yellow eyes gazed into his dark ones. Darrian grinned.

"That was..." He began, unable to stop himself from grinning.

"... Pleasant." Morrigan supplied, untangling herself from him. Darrian whimpered. "Oh, don't give me those puppy eyes. 'Tis a kiss you wanted, 'tis a kiss you got. Now bathe." She insisted.

Darrian smirked. "Sure." He crawled off the bed, cast his armor aside and began to slide out of his clothes.

"I will go see what Clare is bringing for supper." Morrigan announced as Darrian stopped midmovement, his shirt halfway off.

"Aww. You're not going to watch?" He jested as Morrigan shot him a look and left the room.

_Maker_. He sighed happily as he sunk into the bath. The water smelled like Morrigan, or perhaps like the soap she used. It was a pleasant sensation, though after the kiss it made him feel a bit giddy. Darrian finished his bath and slipped on his small clothes than breeches before laying back on the bed. He closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep again, only awakening when he heard the door to his room open and Morrigan step inside. She set down the tray she carried on the small table than came over to Darrian.

" 'Tis much better. You smell less of dog." Morrigan said approvingly and Duncan gave a hurt whine.

"I smell like you. I used your soap." Darrian mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Truly? Well.." Morrigan smirked slightly. "You could smell of worse things I suppose."

Darrian sniffed the air, his attention being drawn to the tray of food. He scrambled out of bed and went over to the table to sit, admiring the dried meats, fruits, and cheese set decoratively on the platter. Morrigan came to join him.

The rest of the evening was spent in joyful conversation. Darrian asked Morrigan about her mother, her life in the wilds, and Morrigan had replied with stories of her mother's past conquests and templar baiting. After the food was devoured, they retired for the eve, and though Darrian stole another kiss they were both too tired to contemplate much else. At first, they lay apart from each other, each one determined that the other must make the first move. However, Darrian grew tired of this impass and reached over to pull Morrigan to him, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her.

"Feeling possessive, hmm?" Morrigan asked, sounding pleased.

"I was cold. Shush woman." Darrian mumbled, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of the shampoo she had used. Morrigan giggled, and soon they were both asleep. A moment's peace wrapped in each other's arms, neither looking forward to the approaching dawn.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven : Bhelen for King

The next morning came too quickly, and everyone gathered in the barroom downstairs.

Morrigan looked displeased, rubbing her head as they all sat down. She turned her yellow eyes to Alistair.

"You can have your warden back tonight!" She snapped. "He very nearly gave me a black eye last night, with all his flailing nonsense!"

Darrian's ears went red. "Its the nightmares.. And I've never been much of a calm sleeper..." He beseeched her. Alistair chuckled.

"Excuses. If you did not want me there, you just need to of said so!" Morrigan turned her displeased gaze to Darrian.

"Come on, I promise to stay on my side tonight, I promise!" He begged.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes as Darrian gave his best impression of a begging mabari, his eyes wide and bottom lip jutting out. "... Fine. FINE." Morrigan agreed after a long disapproving moment. "But if you dare smack me again, I'll tie you to the bed posts!"

Darrian chuckled. "I promise. I wouldn't want to bruise your pretty face." He reached out to brush her cheek with his fingers, and she did not move away. A sure sign that all this banter was just foolishness, and she had not really wanted to give Darrian to Alistair.

"Excuse me while I go relieve my stomach of its contents." Alistair mumbled, making gagging sounds.

"Oh shush, I think its sweet." Leliana cooed.

"Can we stop this foolishness?" Sten interrupted.

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Darrian turned his attention away from the witch. They began to discuss tactics over a few mugs of ale, deciding that they would split up and see where each canidate for king stood. It was obvious that the dwarves would not be able to send aid as long as they were deadlocked. They needed a leader. A strong leader. They would go seperately, and meet back at Tapsters around dinner time. Though how they were to tell time without the sun to guide them, Darrian was not sure. Alistair and Leliana would be going to the Diamond Quarter, as they were the best at handling nobility in a non threatening manner. Morrigan had agreed to speak with the merchants in the Commons, and Sten would be heading to the Provings. Darrian didn't expect the qunari to ask many questions, but he expected Sten to overhear what the warriors thought of Bhelen and Harrowmont.

That left Darrian with Dust Town. Where the casteless were kept. The idea of casteless disgusted Darrian. They were basically cast offs, the unwanted, much like the elves were in Denerim. Believed to be the offsprings of criminals and the like, quarantined away from the rest of society just for an accident of birth.

_Racist against their own kind. These dwarves disgust me._

Duncan ran about his feet as he made his was to Dust Down. On the way, a merchant's cart caught his eye. He wandered over to it, eyeing two things. One was the most beautifully crafted dagger he had ever seen. A red steel blade, slightly curved, with a rose golden handle embossed with thorny roses. The other was a hand mirror, made with the same rose gold with several tasteful gems embedded around the shiny surface.

"Go 'head. Pick it up." The merchant urged.

Darrian reached out and took the mirror in his hands, turning it over and over. Morrigan had mentioned a golden mirror she had once stolen from a noblewoman who had passed through the Wilds. Her mother, Flemeth was her name apparently, had broken the mirror upon the ground, chastising Morrigan for coveting such a material thing. Morrigan had only been a child, and though Flemeth's actions made Morrigan stronger, Darrian could tell the wound still stung.

_This mirror.. It looks just like Morrigan described._

"Cost one soveriegn." The merchant said, a grin on his grizzled lips, sensing he was about to make a sale. "Would be a perfect gift for the missus."

_Missus. Morrigan would hang me up by my toe nails if I called her that. Still... I think she deserves it. A beautiful mirror for her beautiful face._

Darrian fished out his coin purse, noticing he was down to his last couple of soveriegns. He sighed, but forked one soveriegn over. He looked at the dagger longingly as the mirror was carefully placed in a velvet lined wooden box than handed to him.

"The dagger's a nice piece too, isn't it?" The merchant goaded.

"It is." Darrian sighed. "Alas, its not meant to be. Thank you for the mirror."

The merchant nodded and Darrian tucked the box in his rucksack before heading away. The mabari barked happily, twirling a bit. Darrian smiled.

"Sorry boy, this isn't for you."

Duncan let out a whimper.

"Oh don't give me that. Its for Morrigan. You like her."

Duncan gave another happy bark.

The difference between the Orzammar Commons and Dust Town were greater than the difference between Denerim and the Alienage. All the buildings in Dust Town resembled sheds that had not successfully stood up against a raging fire. The stone was the color of coal, and a rancid stench permeated the air. The dwarven residents were cast about like trash, sitting at the road side begging for coin. They watched him with hungry eyes as he made his way deeper into Dust Town, making sure to keep a firm hold on his bag. Duncan whimpered, sticking close to his master and looking quite uneasy.

"You from the Shaperate? I knew they'd send someone after me." A voice growled at Darrian. It was a casteless, with a very garish tattoo over his forehead.

"What's a shaperate?" Darrian asked, his brow raised warily.

"Don't try to fool me. I'm not letting ya take me in! I've already passed it on anyhow!" The dwarf drew his blades, a pair of dark, rusting daggers and lunged at Darrian who jumped aside, landing face first in the dirt.

"Maker! What the-" Darrian protested, scrambling back to his feet as the dwarf struck again. Duncan inserted himself between Darrian and the dwarf, lunging. The dwarf jumped backwards a little too late, and Duncan's claws dug into the bearded one's chest, knocking him off his feet.

Darrian unsheated his own blades and the dwarf scurried away from the mabari, quickly getting to his feet. The elf took a step to the right, twisting his torso as he did so, bringing both blades down in an arc as the dwarf lunged again, both blades held high aiming for Darrian's chest. Darrian's blow was able to knock away the dwarf's blades so instead of hitting their mark they were instead embedded in his upper thigh.

"Aughh!" Darrian growled, elbowing the dwarf in the face, pushing him back. As he did so, the dwarf pulled the daggers out, causing more damage than they did during the intial blow. Ignoring the pain coursing through him, Darrian moved like a man uninjured, ducking under the next blow and bringing his own daggers to the dwarf's throat. With a swift motion he slashed his dagger across the neck causing blood to spurt out and coat the elf.

The casteless fell to the floor, twitching slightly as the life drained from his looked down at the still body, his brow furrowed. That didn't have to happen. If he'd only listened to me. He wiped the blood from his face with his arm. Blegh. Now I really need a bath. The elf limped to the side of the street, careful not to put too much stress on his injured leg. And a healer.

He inspected the wound, glad to see that the daggers didn't seem to have been poisonous. Darrian dug through his pack, bringing out his bandages and a poultice Morrigan had made. He applied it to the wound, wincing as it stung, than wrapped the bandages tightly around it. Darrian used Duncan as support as he made his way to his feet again_. I really should stop walking around by myself. I only seem to get in trouble. _

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head as Duncan gave him a pitiful glance.

"Come on. We've still got to talk to them. Hope I don't get shanked again_." I wonder if this is how the shemlen felt, walking into the Alienage..._

By the time Darrian left Dust Town it was late in the evening. He had learned much about the dwarves and how they viewed the casteless. He had also learned that Prince Bhelen wanted to allow the casteless to take up arms against the darkspawn, something that the current tradition would not allow. Harrowmont was more than happy to allow the casteless to stay where they were and amount to nothing. Bhelen saw their worth, was willing to give them a chance to prove themselves and rise above the life in the slums.

Granted they also said Bhelen was a cut throat bastard, but Darrian knew that sometimes in order to be a good leader one had to be a bit of a bastard.

He was the last one to make it to Tapsters, in fact he was so late Alistair and Morrigan were standing outside the tavern, glancing about for him as he hobbled up.

"Maker's breath! What happened!" Alistair exclaimed once he saw Darrian, moving over to help the elf walk.

Morrigan looked relieved, than worried, and finally displeased when she saw Darrian's wound. "Truly, I can not let you go anywhere alone." She tutted, opening the door for Alistair and Darrian to pass through.

"It was a misunderstanding, really!" Darrian insisted after he informed everyone about his fight in Dust Town. His leg was across Morrigan's lap as they sat in the barroom, discussing the things they had learned. She was quietly muttering about Darrian's foolishness as she tended to the wound.

"The provings gave nothing useful, but these papers. A dwarf named Vartag gave them to me. Told me to give them to the Grey Warden I traveled with." Sten said stoically, sliding the papers across the table to Darrian. Alistair leaned over to read them as well.

"These... are what? Land deeds? Wait.." Darrian flipped through them, making sure he was reading them correctly. "Is the Harrowmont fellow promising two different families the same land?"

"Looks like it." Alistair sighed.

"In the Diamond quarter the families seemed parted pretty equally. Those wanting to stay with the traditional way Orzammar is run are siding with Harrowmont. Those who believe things should change are siding with Bhelen." Leliana explained, looking tired. "Its exasperating."

"There are rumors, of course, that Bhelen framed King Aeducan's middle child for the murder of his eldest." Morrigan finally commented, having finished patching up Darrian's leg.

"That's terrible!" Leliana gasped.

Morrigan shrugged. " 'Tis the way of the world. Survival of the fittest. That sort of practice is common place everywhere."

"Still.. I think we should support Harrowmont." Leliana insisted. "He was who the last king wanted on the throne! We should respect his wishes."

"The last king was weak. Harrowmont is weak." Sten shook his head.

"I agree with Sten." Alistair nodded. "No, don't give me that look!" Leliana had begun to glare at him. "Think about it. Harrowmont is getting support by promising more than he can deliver. And by the sounds of it, he wants Orzammar to cut itself off from the world. That can't be good, can it?"

Darrian nodded. "Exactly. And What about the casteless and surface dwarves? Harrowmont is more than happy to ignore them." He sighed heavily. ". . . .Its the Alienage all over again. Are dwarves on the surface, in the slums... really that different from the nobles?"

Leliana looked over to Darrian, her gaze softening. ". . . You're right. It will be a difficult road, but perhaps Bhelen can lead them down the road of change."

"I should go see the people on these papers... They need to know of Harrowmont's treachery." Darrian decided, trying to stand.

"You are not going anywhere." Morrigan insisted, pulling Darrian back into his seat.

"I'll go." Alistair offered, taking the papers. "Though not alone. I don't want to end up like you." He danced aside as Darrian moved to slap him. "Sten, Leliana?" They both nodded and stood, following Alistair out of Tapsters.

"Come on. You should rest." Morrigan insisted, helping Darrian to his feet. The elf frowned.

"I'm not a porcelain doll, you know." He protested.

" 'Tis true. But where would we be if you were incapacitated?" Morrigan asked, helping him up the stairs.

"You would care less about what happened to Alistair or Leliana." Darrian mumbled, resting his head against Morrigan's shoulder.

" 'Tis also true. But I care what happens to you." She stated simply, and the elf smiled protesting no more as Morrigan guided him into their room, laid him down on the bed, then went about washing the blood from his face.

"Why are you smirking like that? 'Tis most disturbing." Morrigan frowned, dipping the cloth she was using to clean his face into the bowl of water at her side.

"I must be delirious with pain." Darrian mumbled.

Morrigan chuckled, shaking her head. "There, you're clean again. Though, I would say your armor has just about had it." She added as she began loosening the fastenings of Darrian's leather armor and sliding it off of him.

"You're not crippled, you know. You could help me." Morrigan insisted.

Darrian whimpered. "But when will I get the chance for a beautiful woman to undress me again?"

"I am not undressing you. I am merely removing this ragged leather you call armor. Honestly, you should get it replaced." She made a face as she cast the leather aside.

"And how exactly should I do that? Funds are low."

" They wouldn't be so low if you didn't insist on the best rooms in the house." Morrigan frowned.

"That wasn't my idea! It was that dwarf.. Clare. And you didn't complain last night." Darrian growled, rolling over onto his side, his back to Morrigan. "If you want I'll go demand my money back and we can sleep in the sewers with the casteless. That what you want?"

" Of course not! But this is frivelous spending though! Armor, that's important!" Morrigan complained, sounding exasperated.

Darrian sat up, than slipped out of the bed. "Giving my friends a few nights to relax in comfort, that's important. I can repair my armor." He limped over to it, and swept it into his arms.

"Where are you going?" Morrigan asked, standing as well.

"Out. I don't want to listen to this right now." He stated bluntly, hobbling out of their room and stumbling a bit down the stairs. Duncan started to follow, but Darrian stopped him. "Stay with her. I don't want her alone, just in case." He whispered to the mabari, who nodded and slipped back inside.

He made his way back to the table they had all sat in earlier, piling his leather armor onto it, and he began the painstaking task of repairing it.

"Looks like a lost cause ta me." Clare noted, walking over to him and setting a mug of something warm and steaming down near him.

"I didn't order anything.." Darrian said, looking up from his work. The dwarf girl winked.

"Ya looked depressed. Thought ya could use something to warm ya bones." Clare pulled out a chair and sat down across from Darrian.

"Thanks." Darrian said appreciatively, taking the mug in his hands and taking a large gulp.

"So? What's buggin' ya? A fight with ya girl?"

"She's not my girl." Darrian mumbled, his cheeks flushing as he picked up his needle again and started to sew the patches of his armor back together.

"Uh huh. Suuuure she isn't." Clare winked.

Darrian sighed, looking slightly angry. "Look. I just want to be alone, all right?"

Clare stood, shrugging slightly. "If ya insist." She cast him an appreciative glance. "Though if she don't want ya, I know quite a few girls who would." She winked again before sauntering off.

_Why couldn't I attract girls this easily in the Alienage? Seriously?_

He cast the armor aside in frustration. _I shouldn't of bought the mirror.. She's going to hate it. Call it frivelous and stupid. I just wanted to see her smile. I should of bought new armor.. That stupid leather has been with me since Ostagar..._

Darrian banged his head on the table in frustration.

"Darrian? What are you still doing up?" Alistair called as he, Leliana and Sten returned.

"Brooding." Darrian mumbled, not looking up from the table. Alistair waved the others away and went to sit at Darrian's table.

"What's wrong?" Alistair reached out and took the mug of hot cider. He sniffed appreciatively and than took a drink.

"My armor sucks, and I'm terrible with money." Darrian whined. "And that's my drink!"

"Touchy." Alistair handed the drink back over, and picked up the discarded armor instead. "You're right. It's not pretty. Why haven't you gotten some new armor? I picked up a great set of scale mail from a merchant earlier today."

"Because I'm a magpie and attracted to pretty, shiny things." Darrian mumbled, hiding his head in his arms again. "Didn't help that I paid for the inn rooms. Or supplies."

Alistair frowned slightly. "You know. That doesn't seem fair, does it? It all coming out of your pay. You can have my armor if you want?"

"It wouldn't fit me." Darrian sighed. "I know I'm acting like a fool."

"Why don't you go back upstairs? I'm sure Morrigan will be happy to make you feel more like a fool?"

Darrian narrowed his eyes. "She's already done that. That's why I'm down here in the first place." He waved his hand dismissively. "How did it go with those papers?"

"Oh! Went great, actually. Both Helmi and Dace are switching their votes over to Bhelen. And Bhelen has decided to grant us an audience tomorrow."

"Whoopee." Darrian sighed. "I feel so honored."

Alistair burst out laughing. "That's just about how I feel. Still, I think its the right choice."

"Yeah. Me too. So hey.." Darrian suddenly grinned, eager to change the subject. "How did things go with Leliana last night?"

Alistair smirked. "We made mad, mad love until the early hours of the day."

"Seriously?" Darrian raised an eyebrow.

"NO!" Alistair's cheeks turned slightly red. "Maker, no! We pretty much went straight to bed."

Darrian chuckled. "Aww. Too bad for you."

"So?" Alistair asked, grinning again.

"So... what?"

"You and Morrigan? I can't say much for your taste... She's a nasty creature, but pretty enough I suppose.."

Darrian smirked. "Nothing. Well... nothing much, anyway." His mood darkened again, thoughts going back to the mirror. He sighed again, laying his head back on the table.

Alistair cocked his head to the side, and poked Darrian's skull. "Hey. Come on now, I was kidding. She's not that nasty.. I suppose..."

"Its not that... I..." Darrian mumbled some more. "I just don't want to talk about it."

Alistair watched the elf for a few long moments before standing. "You know, the longer you avoid the issue, the worse its going to get." He noted before making his way to his room.

_Damn it. Why did you have to get all wise now?_

Darrian forced himself to his feet, collected his armor, swallowed the last of his cider, than made his way up the stairs. Morrigan was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking stern.

"I was wondering when you would return." She said disapprovingly.

Darrian said nothing, just limped over to the small table, laid down his armor than dug though his pack, withdrawing the box that contained the mirror. He than hobbled over to Morrigan and thrust it into her hands.

"What's this?" She asked surprised as she looked from him to the box.

"Its what I bought instead of armor. The foolish elf that I am." Darrian replied crossly before tossing himself on the bed behind Morrigan. She carefully opened the box, and let out a gasp of surprise as she saw the golden mirror. She traced the delicate metalwork with her fingers before taking it by the handle and removing it from the box.

" 'Tis is... a mirror... It looks just like the mirror my mother..." She suddenly went quiet.

"I know. That's why I got it. How foolish I was, just wanting to make you smile." Darrian grumbled, rolling over on his side, back towards Morrigan, and shutting his eyes.

_Foolish boy... _Morrigan smiled softly as she continued to look at the mirror. _He bought me a gift, just wanting me to smile... and I insulted him for it, what a fool I am..._

She glanced behind her, about to speak, but stopping short when she noticed Darrian's even breathing. He must of been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly..

She placed the mirror on the bedside table, than adjusted the blanket to cover the elf. The witch than changed into her night gown and climbed into bed beside him. Morrigan snuggled up next to Darrian as he slept, wrapping an arm around his waist and softly kissing the back of his neck.

_What am I going to do with you? _She smiled, feeling pleased as she too fell asleep.

The next morning Darrian was surprised to wake up in Morrigan's arms. Neither him nor the witch had moved much during the night, therefore she was still snuggled up against his back. He moved carefully, so not to wake her, slipping out of the bed and dressing quietly. His leg was feeling better, though he still limped slightly.

Duncan nuzzled Darrian's leg as the elf glanced back at the sleeping witch. A small smile appeared on his lip and he moved over to her, leaning down to kiss her forehead only to be surprised when she peered up at him with her golden eyes.

" 'Twas wondering if you were going to try to sneak out of here." Morrigan said shrewdly, adjusting herself slightly, than tossing her arms around the elf's neck.

"Wouldn't think of it." He smirked, though that was what he had been planning. "Look, I-" He began, hoping to apologize for the night before. Morrigan stopped him, placing a finger on his lips.

" 'Twas I who was foolish. I was merely concerned.. You coming back limping and bleeding did not sit well with me." Morrigan said softly, glancing away as if embarrassed.

"It didn't help that I acted like a child and fled." Darrian smiled softly, touching her forehead with his.

" 'Tis true." She consented, sliding a hand through his hair and bringing her lips up to kiss him.

When the kiss broke, Darrian smiled. "The others are probably waiting for us." He tried to pull away, but Morrigan tightened her grip.

"Let them wait. I am not done with you yet." Morrigan insisted, drawing him in for another kiss.

_I'll never be done with you, you foolish boy.._


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 : Dwarven Thugs

" 'Tis true what they say about the stamina of Grey Wardens." Morrigan remarked as they disentangled themselves from each other and got dressed.

"What, there are stories?" Darrian asked, a brow raised as he put on his pitiful leather armor. I'm gonna have an audience with a prince and I look like trash...At least I'll have that afterglow thing going for me..

"If there is not, there should be." Morrigan smirked, sauntering out of the room, Duncan at her heels.

_One of these days that mabari is going to remember he's my dog_.

Darrian sighed, but couldn't help smiling like a child. What had just happened, he had not expected. The softness of her skin, the urgency of her touch, the huskiness of her voice...

"Are you coming?" Morrigan has stuck her head back into the room, looking slightly annoyed.

"oh! yes! That.. of course.. I'm coming!" Darrian rambled before joining her.

_Maker.._

Downstairs the others were waiting for them. Sten lookes stoic as always, but Leliana had a smile gracing her lips.

"Well, well. You finally decided to join us?" She remarked, her gaze following Darrian and Morrigan as they took their seats. "We thought we would have to go up there after you... But we didn't want to interrupt."

"Ah, looks like the chantry taught you some manners than." Darrian smirked back at Leliana before turning to Alistair. "So, when do we meet the prince?"

"This afternoon. Shortly in fact." Alistair mumbled, unable to keep his gaze on Darrian.

"What's wrong?" Darrian asked.

" 'Twould seem that someone did try to interrupt.." Morrigan looked amused. "Are you intimidated now, Alistair? You shouldn't be, I did leave him in one piece after all.." Alistair's face turned bright red as he shook his head. "Did you want advice, than? Darrian seems rather knowledgeable and I am sure he would impart his knowledge onto you if you only asked? I recommend that thing he did with this tongue, did you see that part?"

"ENOUGH!" Darrian shouted, his own ears now cherry red. "Maker's breath woman!"

"Ah, I see. You don't wish to share your secrets, I understand. They are quite good, keeping them to yourself is probably for the best."

Darrian suddenly stood up. "Alistair, Duncan and I will go meet with Bhelen."

Morrigan looked up at Darrian with an arched brow. "Not I?"

"I don't trust you to keep your mouth closed at the moment, woman." Darrian said honestly.

"W-wait. Before we go.." Alistair began, reaching under the table and pulling out a package. He handed it to Darrian. "This is for you. Leliana, Sten, Morrigan and I pitched in to get you this. Duncan tried to pitch in too, but all he had was a lamb bone.."

"Rauff!" Duncan barked happily, his little knobbly tail wagging.

"When did you get this?" Darrian shot a glance at Morrigan. "And when did you have time to pitch in for anything.."

"You are a heavy sleeper." She replied with a shrug.

Darrian ripped open the package, and inside was a fine suit of leather armor. The leather was dark, almost black, and the fastenings were glistening silver. It came with boots, gloves, and the most ridiculous hat he had ever seen.

The elf was speechless. His mouth gaped open uselessly as he donned the ugly hat. Morrigan, Alistair and Leliana snickered. Even Sten looked amused.

"The merchant said it was called Shadow of the Empire." Alistair informed him. "Though, of what Empire, I have no idea. I don't think the merchant did either. But its your size, thanks to Morrigan."

_I am not going to ask how she knows that. I'm better off not knowing. At least the hat covers my red ears.._

At once, Darrian began removing his torn leather armor, gaining a lot of glances from the other patrons in the tavern and a wolf whistle he was certain came from Clare. He than slipped on the Shadow, and smiled appreciatively.

"Now I look ready to meet a prince.. Or assassinate someone." Darrian shrugged as he admired himself. "Or both. You never know with politics."

"You should see politics in Orlais." Leliana shook her head.

"Well... thanks." He said, looking a bit embarrassed, and this time not because of Morrigan.

"Do you best not to ruin this one, mmm?" Morrigan warned. "We will not be replacing it."

"A ball of sunshine, isn't she?" Alistair remarked after they had left Tapsters and were heading towards the heavy doors that led to the Diamond Quarter.

Darrian shrugged.. "No, not particularly. She's something.. I just haven't figured out what yet."

"How about crazy? Evil? Manipulative?" Alistair offered, grinning slightly as he counted them off on his fingers.

The elf poked the other Warden sharply on the temple. "Enough from you. All those things could be said about me too, you know?'

Alistair considered for a moment. "That I guess you're perfect for each other... As terrifying as that thought is.." He shivered.

"Look, we're not together or whatever it is you seem to think." Darrian responded. Alistair gave him an incredulous look. "We've... enjoyed... each other, to put it nicely. But I don't think Morrigan has any designs on me after that. When I cease to be what she wants.." Darrian shrugged.

"Uh huh." Alistair sounded as if he did not quite believe what the elf was saying. "So you have no designs on her than?"

Darrian sighed sadly but did not respond. They spent the rest of the walk to the Royal Palace in complete, and awkward silence.

"Wow. That's..Impressive." Darrian stared up at the magnificent stone structure that was the Royal Palace. Like Tapsters it appeared to be carved straight from the rock face. The carvings on the palace were even more elaborate and glinted with touches of gold and silver.

"Well you know what they say about dwarven architecture.." Alistiar began.

"No, I don't. What do they say?" Darrian smirked.

Alistair shrugged. "I have no idea. I was hoping you knew. Something about strength or something."

"Hold." The guard at the door said, holding his hand out to block their path.

"We're the Grey Wardens. Here to see Bhelen?" Alistair said, questioningly.

"Ah yes. We were told to be expecting you. Right this way." The guard opened the grand doors and led them through. The inside was much more impressive than the outside, and that was saying something. Though the walls and floor were made of the same cold stone, the Royal Palace gave off a feeling of refinement. Expansive red and gold rugs were laid out on the floor, fine tapestries and paintings adorned the walls. Stout stone statues of dwarves were in every room, though what they were for, Darrian had no clue.

_A place to put your hat?_

Darrian did not have much time to ponder the dwarven statues, as soon he was face to face with the red bearded dwarf he saw when he first arrived in Orzammar.

"Ah, the Grey Wardens! Orzammar is honored to have such fine guests." Bhelen beamed, with the false smile of a true politician.

Darrian was not buying it. "Yeah. Sure. Look, we need aid against the blight. These treaties say Orzammar owes us." He shoved them in Bhelen's face, who pushed them aside.

"Yes, I have seen the treaties in the records. What you say is true. However, until I gain my throne, I can not send you many troops." Bhelen sighed, dejectedly.

Darrian and Alistair exchanged a glance, and Duncan whimpered.

"Than how do we get you that throne? We've already done some of your dirty work." Darrian asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "The blight is what is important, not your stupid politics."

"I know, I know. I have told the assembly this, but the remain deadlocked." Bhelen agreed. "However... if I were to say.. have a threat to Orzammar taken care of.. They might be more willing to send the troops you need." A greedy smirk appeared on the dwarf's face.

"What is it?" Darrian asked with a sigh_. I knew there would be something. Doesn't want to risk his own men, so he's sending us. Lovely_.

"The Carta has been expanding as of late, and its causing trouble. I want you to take care of them." Bhelen said simply.

"What's a Carta?"

Bhelen sighed. "Its an organized band of thugs, operating out of Dust Town. They are led by a woman named Jarvia. Kill her, kill the Carta and I'll give you your troops."

"Fine. Fine!" Darrian threw his hands up in the air. "I wanted to get shanked today anyway!"

Alistair held back a chuckle, and bowed to Bhelen before both of the Wardens left.

"I really need to give you some lessons on how to deal with royalty." Alistair smirked.

"No thanks. I deal with them just fine."Darrian grumbled as they headed back to Tapsters.

"No, really, you don't."

"Shut it. I'm not in the mood." Darrian insisted as they rejoined the others. Minutes later they were sat around a table topped with a good selection of stews, breads and ales.

"So this prince wants us to do his dirty work?" Morrigan asked with a raised brow as she raised a piece of buttered dark bread to her lips.

"Wants Alistiar and me, yes." Darrian shrugged, frowning a bit. "I knew something like this would happen."

" 'Tis the way of the world. Scratch their back, they will scratch ours."

"You make it sound do simple." Darrian smirked.

" 'Tis simple."

"Anyway!" Alistair interrupted loudly. "We all shouldn't go tramping around Dust Town. It

might put the Carta on their guard."

"I agree." Darrian considered, scratching his chin as he did so. _Man, thinking would me much cooler with a beard to stroke... _He glanced at a dwarf jealousy before turning back to his companions.

"Than I say I go. Alistair, Morrigan, and Sten should accompany me." Darrian suggested.

"Agreed." Sten nodded, getting up from the table. "Let us get it over with."

"I concur." Morrigan stood as well. Duncan whimpered, giving Darrian a pitiful look.

"Look, stay with Leliana. See if you two can overhear anything important, all right?" The elf gave the dog a pat on the head. He than looked to Leliana. "I want you to keep an ear to the ground regarding Harrowmont. We need to know what the opposition is up too."

Leliana nodded. "Leave it to me."

"Good." Darrian nodded, taking a last drink of ale before leading the others out of Tapsters.

The made it to Dust Town quickly, with Darrian dreading every step. _Who wants to go back to the place they were shanked?_

Dust Town was just as he had left it, dirty, dark and smelling of something terrible. The only change was the position of the beggars. One in paticular caught Darrian's eye. She had not been there the day before, and she had fresh wrappings around her knees. She looked up at them as they approached.

"Got some coin for old Nadezda?" The dwarf asked. She had a look about her of someone who was once proud, but that pride had been taken from them. Darrian had seen that look a lot in the Alienage. He kneeled down beside her, taking a soveriegn out of his pouch.

"I've got coin, if you've got information." He offered, showing her the gold. Her eyes lit up.

"What do ya wanna know? If I know it, the information is yours!"

"How do I get into the Carta's base?"

"Well now. Jarvia made some foreign enemies? Or are you working for one of those nobles?" Nadeza shrugged. "It don't matter. I used to run with Jarvia, in the Carta. Had a fit of conscience, and she broke my knee caps."

Alistair winced.

"There are entrances to the hideout all around Dust Town. Changes every day which one will work." She dug into her pocket, pulling out a token and handing it to Darrian. It was the size of a gold soveriegn, with what looked like a skeletal finger carved into it. "Now, I dont know what door it will work though.. But if ya got sharp eyes, ya can find it. There will a slot, just big 'nough for the token."

Darrian nodded. "Thank you Nadezda." He handed her the soveriegn. "Get yourself something to eat."

"I will feast, and think of you. Thank you!"

Morrigan made a disapproving face, and Darrian ignored her.

"Lets inspect these doors, hmm?" They spent hours going to the many doors in Dust Town, none that opened, without finding the slot.

"Maker." Darrian sighed, hanging his head after he finished running his hands over a door.

"Any luck?" He called out to the others.

" 'Tis is most difficult." Morrigan said, sounding frustrated. She had conjured a small ball of flame inorder to illuminate the door she was inspecting.

"I can't see a darn-wait.. is that it? No... I think that was made by a knife.."Alistair commented, still inspecting a door.

Sten remained silent.

"Maybe we're looking to high?" Darrian suggested, kneeling down. The slots were made for dwarves..They wouldn't be at the top..

"Basra!" Sten called out in his native language. He had informed Darrian that it meant foriegner or something similar. So when Sten called out, Darrian went over to him. "I have found it." The qunari was on his knees, tracing his finger over a very slight slot in the door.

"Great!" Darrian exclaimed, feeling relieved. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out of Orzammar..

He beckoned Morrigan and Alistair over to him. "Be ready. They'll probably have guards."

" 'Tis would be foolish to leave the entrance unguarded." Morrigan agreed, taking her staff in her hands.

Darrian took out the finger bone token, hesitated a moment, than slipped the token into the slot.

He was rewarded by the door creaking open, exposing a dark hallway. Well, this is foreboding.

"Morrigan, some light?" He whispered as they entered and the door closed behind them.

Morrigan summoned her flame again, illuminating the passageway. It surprised Darrian to note that Sten did not have to stoop. High ceilings seemed to be a common thing with dwarves. There was a door about twenty feet away, so they went towards it. Darrian took the handle to see if it would open. The latch clanged, not opening.

"Whose there?!" A harsh voice called from the other side. Darrian took a step back, startled. He had been about to take out his lockpicks, and hadn't expected someone to call out to him. It must be a guard. He tried to think of something to say, when Sten mumbled something in his native tongue.

"Oh, a qunari. Must be a mercenary. Come on." The door was unlocked from the inside, and Darrian and Sten exchanged a confused glance.

"Go on." Darrian urged the Qunari, thinking that if Sten went first, the others might be able to catch them off guard. Sten obliged and pushed open the door.

"Well, what are your orders?" A rough looking dwarf with the same facial tattoo as the rest of the casteless.

"Katara." Sten said stoically, hefting his gigantic blade and bringing the hilt down hard on the top of the dwarf's head, sending him to the ground.

"What the-" The other dwarves in the rooms brought out their weapons as Darrian, Morrigan and Alistair charged into the room. Chaos insued. Morrigan was flinging spells with ferocity, Alistair cleared the path with a sweep of his shield and Darrian ducked and dodged, using stealth to deliver painful blows to the most sensitive areas. It was over in minutes, a dozen dead dwarves lay around them, along with an elf in mage robes and another qunari.

"Tal-Vashoth." Sten spat, looking at the body of the dead qunari.

"That's... the mercenaries, right? The ones outside the Qun?" Darrian wracked his brain before coming up with the answer.

"Yes." Sten pointedly turned away fom the corpse and then they continued on. They made their way through the hideout, killing any one who raised arms against them. Soon, they were loaded down with loot and soaked with the blood of dwarven thugs.

"If my direction sense is working... are we going.. up?" Darrian asked as they made their way through a smooth stone tunnel that forced Sten to stoop. The elf was tempted to tell the qunari he could go back to Tapsters when they reached a rather fancy door. The door was unlocked, and inside waited a large group of Carta dwarves, a snobbish, superior looking female standing in the center of the room.

"What do we have here... The latest hired sword sent to seek us out?" Jarvia sneered.

"You could say Jarvia?" Darrian sent a glance back at Morrigan, nodding slightly. The witch took a step back, hiding herself halfway in the shadows as she began to quietly chant.

"Who wants to know?" She barked back, eyeing them all. "Who hired you? Harrowmont? Bhelen? Those nobles finally realize that there will be no king as long as Orzammar has its queen?"

"... Why do we always run into crazy people?" Alistair asked, shooting Darrian and amused glance.

The elf shrugged. "Its a gift?"

"I think you should return it." Alistair chuckled. Jarvia looked rather cross, it was obvious she didn't like being ignore, and it was obvious neither Alistair or Darrian planned to answer her question.

"It really doesn't matter, you've killed my Carta, and I'll get revenge for every drop spilled! I'll get revenge a hundred fold!" She shouted, raising her weapon as a signal to her minions to attack Darrian and the others.

Unfortunately for Jarvia, Morrigan acted first, finishing her spell and causing a bitterly cold wind to start swirling in the center of the room. The icy swirl expanded, and the Carta's charge was slowed, some were even halted or knocked off their feet as the blizzard intensified. On cue, Alistair charged forward, bashing the first Carta member with his shield, following up with a swing of his longsword. With a sweep of his blade, Sten sent several dwarves flying right back into the blizzard's radius. Darrian's target was Jarvia. He allowed Sten and Alistair to draw the attention of the dwarven mob as he skirted around them. The cold wind blasted against Darrian's skin as he fought against the blizzard. His feet slid as he fought to keep his footing, his eyes searching for the prize. Like Morrigan, Jarvia had stayed at the back of the room, out of the radius of the blades. She was still within the blizzard, hunkered down to lessen the damage she took from the flying pieces of ice.

The elf's timing was spot on, and as the blizzard began to die down he darted forward, catching Jarvia by surprise as he seized her from behind and placed his blade at her throat. He expected terror when he looked down into her eyes, fear at least. Instead he saw smugness, and he followed Jarvia's gaze as they flickered towards the entrance of the room... and to Morrigan.

Time seem to freeze as Darrian heard the twang of a bow string, saw Morrigan turn to throw fire at the enemy she was engaging, than he heard the scream as the arrow pierced her chest. Unaware of what he was doing, Darrian cast Jarvia aside, rushing back towards Morrigan as the witch fell backwards. His feet were as heavy as lead as he moved forward.

_Morrigan! No_! His thoughts cried out, unable to voice the words. His heart stopped beating as he fell to his knees besides her, and she did not move. He was unaware of the rest of the combat, focusing on brushing the dark hair away from Morrigan's face, pleading soft words as he held her close. "No, please.. You can call me foolish any time you want.. You can boss me around, I don't care.."

It took Alistair, bleeding from a nasty headwound clapping him on the shoulder to snap him out of his shock. "She's breathing, look."

Darrian glanced down, and saw her chest gently rising and falling, though somewhat erratically. "We need to get out of here." The elf stood, wincing, finally realizing an arrow had pierced his calf as well.

"Let me." Sten offered, a random act of kindness. He lifted Morrigan into his arms, as Alistair moved to support the elf.

"I'm sorry.. I blew it.. I could of killed her.." Darrian rambled. Alistair grinned.

"You did. You didn't realize, did you?"Alistair jerked his head towards Jarvia's corpse.

"You cut her throat as you cast her aside. I swear I've never seen anyone more so fast."

"... I didn't feel like I was moving fast..."

"Uh huh." Alistair cast a knowing glance at the qunari and witch. "So... she's nothing to you?"

"Shut up." Darrian mumbled. "Shut up, not another word."

Alistair grinned annoyingly the whole way back to Tapsters. Bhelen sent a healer, though not a magical one, once he heard of the outcome in the Carta hideout. Leliana acted as a nurse, following the dwarven healer's orders as the tended to Alistair's head and Morrigan's arrow wound. Darrian had refused to let them near him until the other two were tended to and sure to recover.

"You should of seen him run across that room!" Alistair said rather loudly outside the door to Morrigan and Darrian's room.

"Oooh! I bet it was very romantic!" Leliana cooed.

"I told you to shut it!" Darrian shouted from the bed, throwing a pillow at the door. There was a burst of giggles, than silence.

" 'Twas a poor ending to the battle, was it not?" Morrigan peeked through heavy lids.

"Oh, I don't know.. I killed the mob leader, we're all in one piece..." Darrian mumbled, turning his head to look at her. He reached over and gently stroked her face. "I'm glad you're all right."

"What of you? Surely you got out unscathed?" She raised an eyebrow.

Darrian chuckled. "Come on, I'm a clumsy oaf, apparently. Got shot in the leg while I ran to-" His voice stopped, his throat dry. His cheeks flushed and he glanced away.

"Ran.. ran to what? Jarvia?" Morrigan asked, her eyes closing and her voice softening.

"Yes. Jarvia." Darrian cupped her face in his hand and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. _Because she was the only thing I was concerned about..._


	13. Chapter 13

Power of the Ring : Ch. 13

"Accursed Deep Roads Pt. 1"

A week had passed before the healer was inclined to let Darrian leave the tavern and meet with Prince Bhelen. Morrigan was still in a weakened condition and had to stay in her room, much to her disgust.

" 'Tis absurd!" Morrigan had protested when Darrian gave her the news. "I am fit and able, why must I stay behind?"

Darrian shook his head, he had been expecting an argument. "Morrigan. You can barely walk without feeling pain.."

"You and Alistair were both injured!" Morrigan retorted, crossing her arms.

"We didn't get shot through the chest. We're better off than you. And the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to the open air." He didn't dare let Morrigan sense that his leg still pained him, nor did he dare tell her what the healer had said of his injury.

The arrow that had hit him had been poisonous. Though the wound had closed over, it was more that likely that he would lose function in that leg as time went on. The healer had assured him it would be years before any damage would be noticeable if he was careful, and he would retain the ability to walk. Darrian would just lost his speed. His agility.

_When have I ever been careful?_

He dare not let Morrigan know. Oh how she would berate him. He wouldn't of gotten shot if he hadn't made a mad dash to be at her side.

"Fine. Have it your way. Do not tarry long." Morrigan warned, laying back on the bed and closing her eyes.

Darrian let out a relieved sigh as he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Alistair was waiting for him in the hall.

"Didn't take the news well, I take it?" Alistair asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Nope. Not well at all. But better than I expected her too." Darrian shrugged. "Come on. Lets go see what Bhelen wants."

The pair of them made their was back to the Royal Palace, and were escorted to the room they had meet Bhelen in before. The dwarven prince was waiting for them, a grim yet satisifying look on his face.

"I take it you have recovered?" Bhelen inquired with faked sincerity.

"Well enough." Darrian replied, rather crossly. After that mission against the Carta Darrian had realized that Bhelen believed they were expendable. After all, why hadn't he sent any of his own men? "Where are our troops?"

Alistair had hung back, letting Darrian handle the dwarf, a sure sign that Alistair was also tired of Bhelen's games.

"You see... The assembly hasn't made me king yet..." Bhelen began, trying to look troubled.

"..." Darrian stared at Bhelen, looking very cross. "The deal was, I get rid of Jarvia, You provide me with troops." The elf said through gritted teeth.

"I know, I know. But with the assembly deadlocked.." Bhelen sighed dramatically. "However..."

"... What do you want?" Darrian exchanged a glance with Alistair, trying to control his anger.

"If I could get the support of a Paragon, than there is no way the assembly could deny my claim to the throne."

"Wait. Aren't paragons living ancestors? Or some such nonsense?" Darrian asked, burying his face in his hands as anger welled up inside him. "And... aren't there no paragons in Orzammar at this moment?" His voice was quiet, hard. Angry.

"This is true, however, the Paragon Branka disappeared into the deep roads three years ago today. Perhaps she's still there?" Bhelen shrugged.

"No."

"What?" The dwarven prince raised a brow. He was obviously not used to people telling him no.

"No. I'm not dragging my elven ass through the blighted deep roads to search for a paragon bitch who may or may not have been eated by darkspawn three years ago!" Darrian started quietly, his voice growing angrier and angrier with every word. "We suffered terrible injures taking out the Carta, I'm not doing another thing for you!"

"I completely understand." Bhelen smiled evilly. As Darrian and Alistair turned to leave the Royal Palace the prince spoke again. "Oh, could you send my healer back? I think he's been away from the palace too long."

That dirty, accursed, dwarf! Darrian turned to confront Bhelen but Alistair stopped him by grabbing his arm. A tiny shake of the head and the resigned look on Alistair's face made Darrian pause. At least Alistair was aware it was blackmail. Filthy, disgusting blackmail.

"The Grey Wardens have always done what was needed." Alistair sighed lowly, so only Darrian could hear. The elf hanged his head.

"Fine. We'll find this Branka. Bring back her corpse. Whatever." He reluctantly agreed, and Bhelen beamed.

"Ah, I just remembered, we have another healer at the palace, so you can keep the one at Tapsters." Bhelen decided. "Good luck, Grey Warden."

Darrian left the Royal Palace, barely containing his rage. On the way out, he managed to tip over one of those dwarven statues, though it was so sturdy it did took no damage. Even Alistair seemed to be at a loss for words until the stood outside of Tapsters.

"I... That.. are all dwarves that manipulative?" Alistair asked angrily.

"Probably not. Just nobles. Dwarven or not." Darrian grumbled. He did not want to go back into Tapsters, he did not want to face Morrigan. She'd smile that snide, superiour smile and make Darrian feel foolish.

"I can't think of a way around it. We need to go into the Deep Roads." Alistair sighed, leaning against the outside wall of Tapsters. "Or he'll..." His face blanched. As much as Alistair and Morrigan griped about each other, it was obvious Alistair did not want her to die. Perhaps solely for Darrian's sake.

"I'm not going in there. Lets just go." Darrian decided.

"Are you crazy? Into the Deep Roads, without preparations?" Alistair sounded shocked.

"You want to tell Morrigan we just got blackmailed?" Darrian asked with a raised brow.

"Uh. No. No I do not. Lets go than." Alistair glanced over at the door to Tapsters. "We should send a messenger though.. Maybe get Sten and Duncan to meet us? Tell Morrigan where we are going?"

"So the messenger feels her wrath and not us?"

"Exactly." Alistair nodded. They headed towards the entrance of the Deep Roads, finding someone willing to play messenger on the way. After giving the messenger two missives, they heard a hoarse voice behind them.

"Ya the Grey Warden?" A heavily armored dwarf was heading towards them, a battle axe bound to his back, and smelling much worse than the whole of Tapsters.

"Unfortunately." Darrian snapped, looking rather cross.

"I hear ya goin' after Branka."

"Ye-p."

"Well, I wanna go with ya." The dwarf decided.

Alistair and Darrian exchanged a glance_. We do attract the odd ones, don't we?_

"Why?"

" 'Cause Branka is my wife." The dwarf insisted. "And 'cause I know what she was looking for."

Darrian did not bother to hide his surprise. "A paragon was married to... you?"

"Hard to believe, innit? Such a fine stallion tied down. But its true!" The dwarf guffawed.

Holding back his laughter, Darrian glanced at Alistair again before addressing the dwarf. "All right. So where was she going?"

"She was lookin' for the Anvil of the Void. She had tracked it to Cairidin's cross. She took the entire household inta the Deep Roads with her." Now the dwarf sounded slightly depressed.

"The entire household? But aren't you her husband? Why didnt she take you?" Darrian asked bluntly. The dwarf merely shrugged.

"Well, fine. If you want to come into the Deep Roads with us, I'm not going to stop you." Darrian decided, seeing Sten approach with Duncan.

"Great! Name's Oghren!"

"Riiight. That's Alistair." Darrian pointed.

"And that's Darrian." Alistair pointed back.

"Lets get going."

"It was wise to send a messenger, basra." Sten informed Darrian, a slight change in his expression.

Darrian looked up at the Qunari as Oghren talked to the dwarven guards who were at the entrance of the Deep Roads.

"Why's that?"

"Your witch is not happy." Darrian could of sworn he saw Sten smirk as he said this, but he couldn't be sure.

"First off, she's not mine. Second off, I'm glad she's not happy, because I'm not either and we all might as well be miserable together."

"But you are not... together."

"Details." Darrian waved his hand dismissively, trying not to let his true feelings show. This whole thing bothered him. It did so a great deal in fact. Morrigan laying injured, her life in the hands of that damned dwarven healer under Bhelen's control. The dwarven prince could easily ask that she be poisoned, tortured... or worse. If she had been healthy, Darrian wouldn't of worried... At least not as much.

_Damn you Bhelen. _

The Deep Roads lived up to their reputation. The dark cramped tunnels were littered with darkspawn despite the horde gathering on the surface. Darrian had never been fond of small spaces, and the Deep Roads intensified that. He spent many a moment between skirmishes grasping his chest and attempting to calm himself. Alistair had poked fun at the elf for this, until Darrian snapped at him. Since than, the shemlen kept his distance when he felt the urge for a joke. Sten didn't seem to enjoy the tunnels either, though the qunari didn't seem to enjoy much. Still, Darrian was grateful Sten was there. Looking up at the qunari let Darrian believe the tunnels weren't quite so tiny. Oghren seemed to know where they were going, thank goodness, and they only got lost in the maze like tunnels a handful of times.

After a particularly fierce battle with a humongous spider and her brood, they found their first bit of evidence about Branka.

"Maker.." Darrian sighed, wiping ichor from his face. "I think it got in my mouth. Ugh."

"Don't like how spider tastes?" Alistair asked, removing his sword from one of the carcasses.

"No. It tastes worse that Oghren smells."

"No it doesn't!" The dwarf protested and Darrian grinned.

The good thing about fighting spiders of this size.. is you get a lot of elf was gathering various spider venoms when Alistair discovered the journal.

"Hey! A book!" Alistair picked up the ancient looking journal.

"What does it say?" Darrian asked over the tinkling of his glass vials as he put them carefully in his pack.

"Says something... about the deep trenches? You think that's a place?"

"Aye. Crawling with darkspawn." Oghren went over to Alistair and snatched the book from his hands.

"Hey!'

"Its Branka's all right. Recognize her written. Mentions me too.. What I have to say to Oghren should be for his ears alone... The softie. Knew she was thinking about me." Oghren smiled beneath his dirty red beard.

"These Trenches.. They around here somewhere? We've been here for days.." Darrian sighed again, calm for the moment as the battle had taken place in a rather spacious carvern.

"Should be just up ahead.. A days journey. Maybe less if we hustle." Oghren nodded.

"Set camp. We'll make it there tomorrow. It'll give us time to study that journal." Darrian commanded and everyone set to work. Alistair started a fire, using various spider parts so the whole campsite had an interesting smell.

"How are our rations?" Alistair asked, and Darrian checked the sack.

"We've got biscuits.. Cookies... where did we get cookies?" Darrian raised a brow as Sten reached over him and took the cookies. "... all right... no cookies than. Got some cured meat.. lots of mushrooms." The elf's stomach complained. It yearned for the rich stews of Tapsters. Duncan even seemed unhappy with their rations.

"Ugh. Not the best, but at least we won't have to resort to spider yet." Alistair sighed, eyeing Sten's cookies. The qunari narrowed his eyes, and Alistair glanced away, deciding the cookies weren't worth it.

"I think I'll skip dinner." Darrian decided, limping over to his bedroll. Alistair's gaze followed his movement.

"You all right? You've been favoring that leg.. Isn't that the leg that..."

"Shut it. Its nothing. Just aches." Darrian grumbled, easing himself down onto his bedroll. In truth, his leg hurt horribly. It was stiff and aching, and the real reason he had wanted to make camp. The elf laid down, his back to the others, feigning sleep.

The truth was he wanted to sleep, but he could not. This deep in the Deep Roads, this close to the heart of the darkspawn, and the nightmares would not stop. They had gotten progressively worse, and were torturous now. He could barely close his eyes without seeing his cousins ripped apart by the blighted Arch Demon, Morrigan or Alistair being swarmed by darkspawn than hauled off into the depths of the earth. Duncan, mabari and shemlen, also appeared in his dreams. Darrian experienced the shemlen Duncan's death over and over, the details changing every time, but always gruesome. The hound never died, but he was always left without a master, forever left to mourn, deciding to sit by Darrian's corpse until starvation took him.

Darrian could not stand it. He wanted it to stop. He wanted out of the Deep Roads, away from this horror.

Back in Orzammar, in Tapster's Tavern Leliana sat alone at the bar, nursing the ale she had ordered hours ago. Darrian and the others had left just a day ago, and already she was feeling uneasy. Morrigan was a terror to deal with, hurling sharp tongues comments whenever the former lay sister went up to check on her. Leliana understood Morrigan's frustration, seperated from the one you care about, even if the witch would never word it in such as way, was never easy.

Leliana had long since decided there was more to Darrian than she had first assumed. He certainly inspired a rare kind of confidence, and she had seen him alone at camp, his face twisted with unspoken emotion. This made her sure that he was not the uncaring brute she had assumed. Not to mention how he saw right through her...

After the initial confrontation Darrian had not asked about her background, he seemed to have been waiting for Leliana to bring it up. He also treated her like he treated everyone else, not seeming to hold a grudge for her accusations. She was most surprised, and pleased. It did not take her long to realize why Alistair had chosed to put his faith in the elf. She found herself putting her faith in him too. Which was why she did not complain about waiting in this filthy bar, playing nursemaid to the spiteful witch.

She made notes furiously in a leatherbound book. Since they had recieved the missives from Darrian, a strange group of dwarves had come into Tapsters, taking over a table in the corner. Every few hours there seemed to be a shift change, and the dwarves would be replaced with new ones. They ordered one drink and nursed it, hadly speaking to each other and shooting furtive glances at Leliana whenever she was in the barroom. It made her increasingly uneasy.

"No sign of the elf than?" Leliana heard one of the suspicious dwarves say as she passed them in the barroom. She took a seat closeby, as if that had been her intention all along, keeping her focus on the dwarves.

"None. The other warden either. It seems as though our sources were correct." The second dwarf sighed, stroking his beard.

_Sources? _

"We will have to go through with Harrowmont's advisor's plan. If the Wardens are aiding Bhelen, than we need to have leverage of our own."

_Harrowmont! Of course! Playing some sort of nobles' game..._

"We should report back." They both stood, glancing at Leliana as they passed. When they disappeared through the door, Leliana stood and hurried up the stairs. She rushed into Morrigan's room, almost slamming the door behind her. The witch had been startled awake, and eyed Leliana suspiciously.

" There is a purpose for this intrusion, I trust?" Morrigan asked, sounding displeased.

"We need to leave. Now." Leliana insisted, beginning to gather Morrigan's belongings and shoving them into her rucksack. Sensing the urgency in Leliana's voice, Morrigan did not protest, but stood and began to dress.

"What is going on? What of Darrian and the others?" Morrigan asked, a slightly worried tone in her voice.

"Harrowmont's men were just downstairs, speaking about getting leverage against the Wardens." Leliana said grimly, scouring the room again, making sure nothing was left behind. She than went to her room, and Sten's, gathering everything she could.

" Meaning us, of course. The delicate lady flowers left behind by the mighty Wardens." Morrigan growled spitefully.

"No one would ever call you a delicate lady flower, Morrigan." Leliana replied, smiling slightly. "but yes, I do believe it is us they intend to kidnap. However.." She gazed over at the witch who was still wincing with every movement. "I don't want to risk it, with your injuries."

"We cannot just abandon them.." Morrigan began.

"You mean him." Leliana noted. "And we will leave word with Clare."

Morrigan glared at Leliana but said nothing as they began down the stairs. The blonde dwarf Clare met them on the stairway.

"You can't go this way." She looked rather panicked.

"Harrowmont's men?" Leliana asked, understanding immediately. Apparently she wasn't the only one who was listening in on Harrowmont's men.

"Yes, please, there's a way to the Commons through the back.. The servants entrance.." Clare cast a glance over her shoulder, than hurriedly led the others towards the back of the upstairs hallway. She threw open a door, leading to a narrowstairway.

"Once you get to the Commons, keep to the center of Merchant's lane. You've done nothing wrong, Harrowmont can't have you arrested or accosted if you stay within sight of the guard. I'll meet you at the entrance to Orzammar." Clare insisted, shoving Leliana and Morrigan down the stairway.

Minutes later they were attempting to walk as calmly as possible through the Commons, Morrigan being supported by Leliana. They both wore fake smiles, and laughed at the most ridiculous things. They were aware they were being watched, and followed, though Harrowmont's men dared not to make their move.

Clare waited for them right next to Orzammar's heavy iron gates. She handed them both heavy wool, fur-lined cloaks and large sacks. She slipped a cloak over her shoulders, tieing it around her neck and looking grim.

"I'm coming with ya. These games... Taking it out on those just trying to fight the blight.." She shook her head disgusted. "There's a little settlement of surfacers who bare no love for the politics of Orzammar. Its a day's journey outside of Orzammar, but it will keep us safe." Clare smiled, trying to reassure herself.

" 'Tis most perculiar. Why do you wish to accompany us?" Morrigan asked, eyeing the dwarf suspiciously.

_She thinks she's after Darrian.. _Leliana supressed a giggle.

"I have my reasons. My great grandmother was in the order... and I..." A light blush came to the dwarf's face. "..hope to see someone again. Who I haven't seen in quite awhile."

"What of Darrian? What will he think if he comes back to no one?" Morrigan snapped.

"I left word with someone I trust. Ya will just have to trust me now." Clare insisted.

"We appreciate your help." Leliana reassured Clare, shooting a glance at Morrigan, who looked mutinous.

Clare charmed her way past the gate guards, and soon they were back in the fresh air. It was snowing quite hard as they started down the path, and away from Orzammar and the Frostback Mountains. Leliana glanced back for one last glance at the iron gates before the treacherous storm obscured her view.

_Let the Maker guide your path, Alistair... Darrian.._

It was dreadfully dark before they made camp, lucky to find a cozy abandoned cave to shelter the storm.

" 'Tis lucky indeed. This weather will slow down our pursurers." Morrigan said approvingly as she started the fire.

"What is this village called?" Leliana asked, fishing deeper into her sack and happily surprised to find decent rations.

"Chapel. And its more of a settlement, not a village. It changes with the seasons, merchants and surfacers moving on when they find a more permanent place." Clare responded, opening a water skin and pouring a dark amber liquid into three simple mugs.

"And how is it you know of such a place?" Morrigan asked, a fine brow arched.

"I-I..." She stammered, looking embarrassed. "I had a friend.." Suddenly her face turned red, looking away. "I don't want ta talk about it."

Morrigan watched Clare for a long moment, as if deciding whether to trust her or not. Without voicing her opinion, she merely turned away, drank her cider, than gingerly lowered herself onto her bedroll, trying not to wince.

Leliana sighed, than drank her mulled cider. The three of them, regardless of whether or not they trusted each other huddled togther underneath their fur-lined cloaks, falling into an uneasy sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Accursed Deep Roads : Part 2"

It was still dark when they broke camp, and Darrian had no idea how much time had passed. His body ached and his stomach churned uncomfortably as he rose to his feet.

"Ugh.." The elf moaned, fighting the urge to retch.

"Basara." Sten had walked over to him, and held out one of his prized cookies. "You cannot go on if you do not eat." The qunari stated simply.

Darrian took the cookie and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Sten." He sniffed the cookie and his stomach rejoiced at the scent. He nibbled it slowly as they made their way towards the Dead Trenches.

"So Sten.. where did you get these cookies?" Darrian asked, trying to savor every bite of the sweet confection as they crawled over rocks and ducked through tight spaces. The elf was hoping the conversation would ease his claustraphobia.

"There was a boy. In the last caravan we passed. Fat, slovenly thing. He did not need to eat anymore." Sten's stoic voice when talking about stealing cookies from a child made Darrian grin.

"You stole cookies from a child." Darrian noted.

"I relieved him of his unnecessary confections." Sten sounded a bit like he was trying to convince himself.

"Hey, I'm not going to judge you." Darrian shrugged. "I just . . .never thought you would have a sweet tooth."

"They do not have these kind of things in Par Vollen."

"They... don't? That's... depressing." Darrian was surpised. He thought everywhere had cookies.

"It should be remedied." Sten stated.

"Why don't you bring some back? We can collect recipes if you want?" Darrian suggested, chuckling slightly as he watched Alistair tripped over his own two feet.

"I can not go back."

Darrian blinked, chewing the last bit of cookie. He swallowed it quickly. "Wait, why not?"

"..." Sten did not reply, so Darrian let it go, filing it in the back of his mind for future reference.

"The Dead Trenches should be right through here.." Oghren said, motioning through a rather small opening.

_Greeeeeeat.._

It was quite a fiasco trying to get everyone to fit through the crevice, though remarkably Sten didn't seem to have a problem. The tunnels opened up into a vast chamber, a great chasm running straight through the middle. Darrian's ears picked up the shouts of darkspawn, the clashing of their steel, and than the wingbeats of a dragon.

"Get DOWN!" Darrian was seized by the collar of his armor by Alistair and pulled to the ground. Seconds later a gigantic dragon soared over the chasm, landing on a large out cropping of rock and letting out an ear splitting roar.

The Arch-Demon Darrian could not take his eyes off of it. His gaze darted from the Demon's foot long deadly fangs, grotesque deeply molted skin, to its evil black eyes. The darkspawn that filled the chasm responded to the call of the Arch Demon, and their cries echoed loudly through out the cavern. Luckily for Darrian and the others, the Arch Demon did not linger, and it disappeared through the Trenches as quickly as it had come.

"I guess that settles it. Its really a Blight." Alistair said grimly as they got to their feet again.

"We.. We have to kill that thing." Darrian stammared, the weight of his task finally hitting him.

Alistair just nodded, looking rather pale.

"Great. Just great. Lets get this over with." Darrian mumbled, leading the group over the chasm, trying not to look down into the depths. Duncan stayed close to the elf, keeping a brave face as if to console his master.

It was half a day's walk into the Dead Trenches until Darrian noticed that there was less rubble and more refined architecture. Another lost Thaig?

He caught sight of an expansive dwarven made bridge, it had to be dwarven made the stonework was so fine, over another chasm. There was a clamor at the end closest to them, and it took Darrian a few long moments before realizing what he was looking at. A group of dwarves, clad in armor of the deepest black, were holding back a band of darkspawn. The most remarkable thing about this was the dwarves did not lose ground. They kept their feet planted at the mouth of the bridge, greeting every darkspawn that came his or her way with the sharp side of an axe.

"Wow." Darrian muttered, watching with awe. He was certain that the dwarves were all cowardly, conniving nobles, he had forgotten that it was they who faced the darkspawn on a more permanent basis. It was the dwarves that gave the surface world a reprieve between Blights.

"Legion of the Dead." Oghren said approvingly, moving to stand next to Darrian.

"Legion of the Dead? They.. don't look very dead."

"They throw away their Caste, their past mistakes, their identies to fight the Darkspawn. Their whole life becomes defending Orzammar from deep within the Deep Roads." Oghren explained, sounding remarkably sober for a man who drank a full skin of ale just that morning.

"People do that willingly? Its not too different than being a Warden.." Darrian asked as they slowly walked towards the Legion.

"Nah. Well, I suppose some could." Oghren shrugged. " 'Lot are criminals. Casteless. Striving for purpose. The Legion gives them one."

"Greetings, Warden." One of the Legion called out, raising a hand in greeting. He was the only one without a helmet, allowing Darrian full view of his weathered, tattooed face and heavily braided beard. Darrian felt a tinge of jealousy, rubbing his own chin.

"You know I'm a warden?" The elf asked, tearing his eyes away from the beard.

"Only Wardens would dare wander this deep. Though you don't look like you're ready for your calling." The dwarf remarked, his gaze going to the others, lingering on Alistair, Sten and finally Oghren. "What business do you have here?" His tone was curious, not confrontational.

"We're looking for the lost Paragon, Branka."

"Hah! A fool's errand. Why would you be searching for her? Its been three years." The dwarf laughed, shaking his head. "Let me guess. The Assembly still has not assigned a king? So you're championing one of those blighted nobles, coming down here into these trenches of mine hoping to find a Paragon to break the stalemate?"

Darrian frowned, looking quite displeased. "Its not by choice, trust me. All I care about is getting troops for the Blight. No king, no troops."

The Legion dwarf nodded grimly. "I understand. But I can't help you."

Darrian just sighed, and nodded slightly. "Than we'll just get out of your way than."

"Stay Alive, Grey Warden."

"You too.. Wait.. Stay dead or whatever it is you are." Darrian jested, a small smirk on his face as he led the others across the bridge and to a pair of heavy iron doors.

"Okay, Oghren, I have to ask. Why do dwarves make everything so damn big!?" Darrian asked sounding astonished as he stared up at the huge doors, his neck aching.

Oghren merely shrugged. "To show off? Hell if I know. I'm a warrior, not a metalsmith."

_To show off.. Well, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case... Still... _

The doors were slightly opened, but heavier than anything Darrian had ever tried to move. It took Darrian, Alistair and Oghren to shove the door open enough for them to squeeze though.

Though the hallways inside were obviously once lived in, it was apparent that the darkspawn had taken them over. Giant, pulsating fleshy growths clung to the floor and walls, amassing in the corners. They contratced and expanded as if they were lungs taking in air or a heart beating. They had a pale pink color and a nauseating stench that Darrian could not describe. Blood stained the floors and walls, seeming to of once oozed from the fleshy piles. The elf gagged, unable to take it any longer. He darted outside the heavy iron door, his stomach heaving as he doubled over and spouted the contents of his stomach over the cold stone.

"Ugh.." He winced, feeling lightheaded as his throat burned from the acid of his stomach.

"You all right?" Alistair asked, coming out to check on him.

"What the hell are those things?! They... it... its flesh! Where.. where they people?!" Darrian demanded, turning to look at Alistair. It made him feel slightly better to note that Alistair looked pale.

_So I'm not the only one affected._

"I... I don't know... I... We need to get this done." Alistair shook his head.

Darrian nodded. "I'm pretty sure my stomach is empty now, I should be all right." They rejoined the others in the fleshy hall way.

"Darkspawn." Alistair warned as they turned a corner. Darrian had sensed them too. A small band of six or seven turned the corner up ahead, and charged them. The fight was quick, such a small group stood no chance. The elf ducked as a dark blade cut the air where his head had just been.

_**First day, they come and catch everyone.**_

The voice startled them all, causing them to pause as it echoed throughout the halls. The source could not be determined, even after the darkspawn had been defeated. Darrian wiped the blades of his daggers on his breeches, as his eyes darted around.

"I.. I'm not the only one who heard that?" Darrian asked tenatively.

"No, definitely not." Alistair responded, looking around as well. Duncan stayed by Darrian's heels, whimpering slightly.

_**Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat**_.

"Andraste's ass! What is that!?" Oghren cried as they continued their journey deeper down the hallways.

They were all moving a bit more cautiously, their eyes wide with shock.

"Are... The voice... What is it talking about? Who is they?" Darrian asked, though he was certain he knew the answer.

"The darkspawn." Alistair said grimly, still pale.

"That's.. disgusting." Darrian wrinkled up his nose as the images of dwarves being torn apart and devoured by darkspawn flooded into his brain. Their eyes wide with terror as the darkspawn's teeth sunk into their flesh and they were eaten alive, still screaming. He shivered.

_**Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.**_

"I...Lets not come back here, all right?" Darrian decided, Alistair nodded in agreement. Oghren was oddly quiet now, his brow knitted slightly. "You all right?" the elf asked him, but the dwarf did not answer.

_Of course he's not all right! Maker, I'm an idiot. None of us is all right.. _His thoughts went to Morrigan, forced to stay behind at Tapsters. For once, Darrian was glad she had been left behind. As tough as she was, he would not of wanted her to see this. To hear this.

_**Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.**_

"Does.. it sound like a girl's voice to you?" Darrian noted as they progressed down the hallways, the voice growing steadily louder. He also noted that the voice sounded... terrified.

_**Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.**_

"Maker.." Alistair sighed, looking as though he wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and drown out the world.

_**Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.**_

Duncan whimpered louder, and Darrian tried to pat him reassuringly. It was obvious they were all disturbed by this creepy... poem. _What are they doing to the girls? Eating them? Like the men? Wait. Never mind. I dont want to know.._

_**Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.**_

"She...grew..." Darrian blinked, realization dawning on him. "OH MAKER!" He shouted, covering his ears with his hands now, his eyes slamming shut. "No. No. No. I don't care. I don't want to know. I DON'T!" He cried out to the voice as he halted in his steps, swaying slightly where he stood.

_**Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated.**_

New images entered Darrian's mind now, of the girls being taken, but not eaten. Touched, fondled, violated. It brought back the images of Shianni laying broken on the floor of the Arl of Denerim's estate.

"STOP IT!" Darrian heard Alistair call out, and risked a glance to look at the shemlen. He too had covered his ears and had stopped walking, all color drained from his face, eyes wide with terror as he repeatedly demanded that the voice stop.

_**Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin. **_

Darrian uncovered his ears, reached out and grabbed Alistair's arm. "Come on. We're going to find whatever is saying this and make them stop." Alistair looked up at Darrian and nodded. Darrian looked back towards Sten and Oghren, though they had been quiet it was obvious the voice had affected them too. Sten was still stoic, but there was an aura of uneasiness radiating about him. The fact that Oghren had been quiet was proof enough that he was bothered. His jaw was set determinedly as they began to progress forward again.

_**Now she does feast, as she's become the beast**_

They turned another corner, and than they saw her. A female dwarf standing in an alcove filled with the sickly flesh. Her eyes were colorless, her expression blank.

"Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams." The poem ended as the woman turned her head to them.

"Hespith!" Oghren called out.

"An elf. No, it cannot be. They only send kin and clan. An elf.. rare.. exotic. No. It cannot be." Hespith rambled, her eyes turned towards Darrian.

"... You know her?" Darrian asked Oghren who nodded.

"One o' my house. Went on the expedition with Branka."

"BRANKA! Do not speak that name! I will not hear it!" Hespith suddenly cried, covering her own ears.

"Wh-what happened to you...? To Branka?" Darrian asked, kneeling down infront of Hespith, noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes and on other areas of her face. _Darkspawn corruption?_

"She became obsessed, that is the word but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil."

Oghren sighed. "She always had a bit of a one track mind."

""I was her captain, and I did not stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become."

Darrian raised a brow. _Her Lover? _"What did Branka do..?"

"She led us, left us. Betrayed us." Hespith's voice sounded far off.

"Branka .."

"DO NOT SAY THAT NAME!" She cried again.

"Okay...your... Lover? She left you?" Darrian tried more tactfully.

"We tried to escape, but they found us. They took us all, turned us. The men, they kill... they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them. They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood. And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them."

Darrian took a step back as Hespith rambled. "She left you.. to that fate... in search of the Anvil? What blighted Anvil!?"

"The Anvil of the Void. Used to make golems." Oghren supplied. "The technology was lost with Caridin."

Darrian did not care who Caridin was, not at that moment. He turned back to Hespith.

"Do you know where she went?" He asked, than jumped back surprised as Hespith darted forward. Darrian and Oghren exchanged a glance than they all clamored after her. The hallways became tunnels and the air grew thicker with the smell of decay.

_**They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them. Broodmother...**_

They heard Hespith again as they turned one last corner. Darrian instinctively took a step back, crashing into Sten, not wanting to get nearer to what had just come into view.

Seeming to be part of the room, much like a tree is part of a forest, growing out of the center of the floor was the most grotesque thing Darrian had ever seen. Taller than Sten, and taking up a large amount of space was Laryn. She resembled no dwarf, and instead was all pink fleshy bulges, thick purple tentacles and sagging breasts as big as Oghren.

"Andraste's tits!" Oghren swore.

"No.. I don't think that's Andraste.." Darrian said grimly, pulling his daggers from their sheaths.

The Broodmother noticed them, and lashed out with her tentacles, causing them to scatter. More tentacles erupted from the ground, twisting and grabbing at them.

"Maker!" Alistair exclaimed, swinging his sword and freeing himself from one of the tentacles with a swipe of his blade.

"Alistair, You and Sten keep the Broodmother occupied, Oghren, Duncan, We're going to attack the tentacles." Darrian commanded and the group spread out.

The the battle raged.

Darrian was unaware where his companions were at any specific time, only catching an occasional glimpse of red beard, brown fur, or shiny armor. He heard their battle cries as he called out his own, digging his daggers into the twitchy flesh of the Broodmother's tentacles. She cried out, and darkspawn flooded into the room, threatening to overwhelm them.

_Maker!_

The walls were closing in on him as the darkspawn converged, all trying to sink their blades into his flesh. Darrian ducked and slid across the floor, using the spilled blood to his advantage. They wouldn't make it, if it stayed like this. They needed to end it, and end it now.

The elf glanced over his shoulder towards the Broodmother. She was injured, greatly so, but Alistair and Sten showed signs of weakening, barely able to keep on their feet.

"Oghren! CLEAR ME A PATH!" Darrian called out and the dwarf was all too happy to oblige. He hefted his mighty axe above his head and charged, yelling loudly. The darkspawn scattered as Oghren swung his axe in wide swings. The path between Darrian and the Broodmother was clear, and the elf knew he had to act now or all would be lost.

Darrian rushed forward, his feet pushing off of the stone hard as he propelled himself forward. The Broodmother grew closer.

"Sten! A boost!" Darrian yelled, the qunari intertwined his fingers making a cradle just in time for Darrian to plant his foot in the qunari's grasp. With a loud grunt, Sten hefted, sending the elf flying towards the Broodmother.

Air whizzed by his ears as Darrian flew threw the air. _Maker, this had better work.. _He prayed.

The Broodmother let out an earsplitting scream as Darrian's daggers were buried deep within her skull. The elf held on to them tightly as the Broodmother thrashed around in pain. Soon her thrashing died down, and she grew still as she slumped over. Darrian removed his daggers, than jumped down from his perch and shivered.

"I think I need a bath." He grumbled, wiping ichor from his face. "I feel... dirty."

Alistair grinned as he resheathed his sword. "You've spent the night with Morrigan and this made you feel dirty?" He than danced aside as Darrian tried to kick him in the shins. Still, the elf couldn't help but smile. With the Broodmother dead, the air felt less thick. The atmosphere slightly more cheery.

"Come on. We've still got to find that blighted Branka."

"What happened to Hespith?" Alistair asked as they found a passageway behind the Broodmother and passed through it.

"I honestly... don't know. Can't be worse than what she's been through." Darrian responded quietly. Alistair just nodded slightly.

They got as far away from the Broodmother's cave as they could, and by than they were too exhausted to continue to walk. So they made camp, tended to their wounds, all of which were mostly superficial.

Darrian winced as his leg stiffened up. He forced it into the back of his mind as he mixed some poltices for Alistair and Sten, since the were the most injured.

None of them slept that night, the air still around them. The events of the day were still fresh in Darrian's mind, and he was sure the others felt the same. None of them wanted those images to invade their dreams as well.

The next day they found her. They had stepped into a tunnel that looked mostly closed off due to a collapse, and heard footsteps clamoring over the stone. On top of the fallen pile of rock stood a dwarven woman, dressed in heavy plate and looking remarkably untainted.

"What's this?" She asked, a dark brow raised. "More peons sent out by the nobles, searching for me?"

"Branka! By the stone, it is you!" Oghren cried out, looking overjoyed.

Branka seemed to ignore her husband, staring down at Darrian instead. "Tell me, who sent you? No, wait, I do not care. But why they sent you.. Did King Aeducan die? That seems most likely. He was old and gray when I departed. Yes. You must of been sent to get the aide of a Paragon because they assembly cannot decide?"

Darrian nodded. "That's pretty much it. We need you to come back and choose a .."

He was cut off by Branka. "I don't care if they put a drunken monkey on the throne! I am so close, the Anvil is just up ahead, I can almost taste it."

"Branka! Can't you see what this has done to you? You're obsessed!" Oghren cried out, trying to reason with her.

"Orzammar can regain its old glory with the Anvil! An unstoppable army of golems! The darkspawn do not stand a chance!" Branka continued, hardly hearing Oghren's pleas."The Anvil is just up ahead, through a series of traps laid out by Caridin himself." Branka's dark eyes twinkled as she spoke. "If you can get the Anvil, I will support your king." She pointed towards another tunnel. "I have sent my men, all of my house... None of them could find a way though. Some begged, pleaded not to be sent, to be able to return home. They were MY HOUSE. And they wanted to abandon me.. Even Hespith.." Branka disappeared over the rocks.

Darrian looked over at Oghren, who was still staring at the space Branka had just left.

"Come on. Looks like we've got no choice. Again." Darrian placed a hand on Oghren's shoulder, and than led them all through the tunnel.

Indeed, the traps were trecherous. Spinning blades sliding through the floor, Golems that activated as you passed in alcoves filled with deadly poison. Tight tunnels filled with darkspawn, making fighting them off very difficult. Still, after the Broodmother, after Hespith, Darrian could endure anything just to get this done.

After the traps they took a small breather, waiting half a day, or approximately half a day since they could not tell how much time was passing, before heading deeper underground.

They came to a wide open chamber, Darrian breathing a sign of relief at it vastness. The ground was littered with crystals, and the walls glowed blue with rich lyrium veins. Standing like statues were dozens of golems, still and inert. The grandest of all the golems was not made of stone, however. It was made of metal, black steel that gave the golem the look of a full suit of armor on a man more than ten feet tall.

"Stranger! You must help me!" A voice called out, and it took Darrian a long moment before he realized it was the golem speaking.

"I am Caridin, and I need your aide to right my wrongs!" The golem pleaded.

"Wha-what? How can I help you?" Darrian stared up at the golem.

"I created the Anvil of the Void to make golems to fight the darkspawn." Caridin sounded troubled. "At the cost of dwarven lives. Each time a golem was made, I used the soul of a dwarf to power it."

"..." Darrian was speechless. He had thought life in the Denerim Alienage was horrible, but he kept seeing and hearing about more terrifying things.

"I used volunteers only... At first."

"At first...?" Alistair asked.

Caridin nodded. "The King forced me to use any dwarf I could. Criminals, Casteless. Nobles that spoke out against him." There was pain in Caridin's hollow voice. "I rebeled. I refused. The king ordered my own apprentices to put me on the forge and make me into a golem. They knew enough to create my body, but not to forge a control rod."

"Tha-that's..." Darrian muttered, exchanging a glance with Alistair.

"I need you to destroy the Anvil. No golem can touch it. It must not be used to make golems again!"

"NOOOO!" Branka came sprinting into the room. "No! Do not listen to that old fool! Centuries down here have decayed his mind! Give the Anvil to me! I can make you an army of golems to fight your blight!"

Darrian looked from Caridin to Branka, torn between them. He could not bear the thought of someone going unwillingly onto the Anvil, being turned into a creature of pure destruction and stone, and yet.. Branka was the one he was sent down here for. She was the one he was sent to bring back. His fists clenched at his side, he shot an apologetic glance at Caridin.

"I'm sorry. I-I.." He took a deep breath before continuing again. "I need Branka's aid. My course is clear."

_Clear as mud._

Darrian let out his breath as Caridin cried out in sorrow and Branka cried in triumph.

"NO! I will not let you have the Anvil!" Caridin began, but went silent as Darrian walked over to him and placed a hand placidly on his arm.

"Caridin... This exsistence of yours... Do you want to continue like this? Living forever in that metal body, unable to forget the sorrow of your past?" Darrian asked, truly feeling for the golem.

"But the Anvil, I cannot let.."

"I know. Neither will I." Darrian turned to Branka, taking another deep breath. "Branka. Do you truly want the Anvil?"

"Of course!" She cried greedily, though there was a hint of hesitation in her tone.

"Think about it. If there is anything... anything left of you besides this obsession... Are you truly capable of sacrificing endless souls for your own pride?" Darrian said harshly, his tone very condescending. "You sacrificed your house. Let your lover be take by the darkspawn, let Laryn and countless others be tainted and changed into foul Broodmothers... and you would still be willing to sacrifice more?"

"Listen to him, Branka!" Oghren chipped in. "This obsession is consuming you! Its all that's left! Is it really worth it?"

"But.. the anvil.. It called out to me.." Branka hesitated, stealing a glance at the Anvil in the distance.

"And those voices. Do you think it was the Anvil? Or the voices trapped within?" Darrian stated coldly.

"I...I... Oh Hespith, what have I done?" Branka sunk to her knees, weeping. Darrian walked over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"You know what needs to be done, Branka. The Anvil needs to be destoyed." Darrian coaxed, putting his silver tongue to the test. "And Orzammar needs to be reunited."

Branka nodded, standing at last. "We will craft you a crown for the king of your choosing, a gift for making me see the light at last." She looked over at Caridin and than the two moved to the forge.

It was hours before the crown was done. But it was beautiful, sparkling gold.

Darrian than approached the Anvil, taking its hammer within his hands.

"Thank you Stranger." Caridin remarked calmly. "I can rest in peace at last."

Darrian moved forward, the hammer feeling heavy within his hands. He hefted it with the last of his strength and than slammed it on the Anvil with all of his might. Bright light exploded from the Anvil, the cries of the souls left within it were joyful and free. Darrian discarded the hammer atop the Anvil's remains.

After seeing his wish fulfilled, Caridin spoke no more, and merely fell to his knees as the life fled from his massive steel body.

"Rest well." Darrian muttered, offering Caridin a quick prayer.

"Branka.." Oghren was approaching his wife, but she stepped away, standing dangerously close to the edge of a lava filled chasm.

"Oghren, its over. I... I do not deserve. After what I have done.. I cannot... Goodbye Oghren." Branka offered him the smallest of smiles than took another step backwards, falling into the lava below. Alistair and Sten had to grab Oghren to stop him from going over the edge as well, for he had charged forward trying to catch Branka before she was engulfed by the molten liquid and flames.

"Come on. I've had enough of these Deep Roads." Darrian remarked, and than they began their long trek back to Orzammar, the crown for their chosen king secure in Darrian's rucksack.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 : Reunited

It took another couple of weeks to get out of the Deep Roads, and by the time they did, Darrian's leg was so stiff that he could only over at half speed.

They all did a sigh of relief when they reached Orzammar proper once more, Darrian even fell to his knees to feel the cold stone beneath his hands. It was magnificent to touch stone that hadn't be stained by the blood of darkspawn.

_Or my own blood, come to think of it.._

"To Tapsters than? Or straight to the Assembly?" Alistair asked, sounding eager to get this over with.

"The Assembly." Darrian decided. He wanted to be able to go to Tapsters and tell Morrigan that they could go to the surface at last. On the way to the Diamond Quarter, they passed a stall where a bunch of pink hairless rabbit and pig hybrids. They were the ugliest creatures Darrian had ever seen. The dwarf working the stall beckoned Darrian over.

"You the warden?" He asked with his thick voice as he stroked his auburn beard. " 'Ave a message for ya." The dwarf glanced about a bit as if he was afraid of being watched. He than dug his hand into his coat and came out with a sealed envelope. The dwarf winked, than turned his back to the elf as if he hadn't been talking to him at all.

Darrian inspected the envelope, finding nothing remarkably about it. He tore it open and his eyes scanned the page his expression changed from mild curiousity, to suprise, than to anger and finally to rage. He crumbled the letter in his fist, the blood rising to his face.

_That spineless, blighted bastard..._

Without glancing back at the others, he hurried to the Assembly in a blind rage, moving again as if his leg wasn't injured. Darrian paid no heed to the stares he was getting. He could only imagine the impression he was making, storming as filthy as he was through the center of posh society in Orzammar. If he had been in a better mind set he might of laughed.

"You do realize you're probably breaking all kinds of laws doing this?" Alistair remarked, sounding mildly amused as Darrian rushed through a crowd, ignoring the calls of the guards.

"They can all sod off." Darrian grumbled.

Oghren cheered "That's my boy!"

"The Assembly is in session, you cann-" A guard began, only to be silenced with Darrian's vicious stare.

"I am through being told what to do!" The elf Warden growled before he kicked the Assembly doors open rather dramatically.

Bhelen and Harrowmont were in the middle of a heated arguement, attempting to get the Assembly on their side, though every dwarf in the room ignored them when they heard the doors crash open and Darrian storm inside. Alistair, Oghren, Sten entered afterwards, though more quietly. Duncan gave out a happy bark, his stumpy tail wagging.

"This intrusion is uncalled for, Grey Warden I insist-" The Assembly Steward insisted, only to be cut off by Darrian.

"SHUT IT!"

The Steward blinked, taking a step back as he was obviously startled.

"I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOUR POLITICAL BULLSHIT!" Darrian dug into his bag, and pulled out the golden crown Branka had given him. He threw it with such force into the Steward's arms that the Steward was knocked off of his feet. "There's your blighted crown! For Branka's chosen king!" At these words the Asssembly all gasped, and the Steward examined the crown.

"It does have Paragon Branka's seal.."

"Bhelen is your king! He is the one Branka choose. Crown him and give me the blighted troops I came here for!" Darrian raged through gritted teeth.

Bhelen was crowned, and after calling for his opponent's exection, he summoned Darrian for a private meeting. A meeting he only accepted to stay for because Darrian had some choice words for the new Dwarven King.

"I must thank you Grey Warden, for my crown." Bhelen began with his sugar coated words.

"Shut it. I don't care for your thanks. I honestly no longer care what dwarven ass sits on the throne." Darrian started, staring Bhelen down. "You used me for your own selfish ends, blackmailed me to get you on the throne. I applaud your ruthlessness Bhelen. But if you DARE not send me my troops, or follow the treaty to the EXACT LETTER, I will end it."

"End it?" Bhelen asked, his calm demeanoring cracking slightly and sounding quite uncomfortable as Darrian advanced towards him until they were toe to toe.

"You saw how hard I worked to rid Orzammar of the Carta? You have no idea what it was like delving the Deep Roads after your precious Paragon. If you do not uphold your end of the bargain, if you DO NOT prove that fool Harrowmont wrong and keep Orzammar quartered off from the rest of the world for your damn pride, I will work TEN TIMES as hard as I did to get you ON the throne, and GET YOU OFF OF IT."

Bhelen's guards took a step towards them, but the dwarven King held them back with a wave of his hand.

"Are you threatening me?" Bhelen asked, sounding slightly amused.

"YES."

"Than its lucky for me that I do not intend to weasel out of the treaty." Bhelen said coldly.

"Good." Darrian turned on his heel and left Bhelen behind. He hurried out of the Royal Palace before collapsing from the pain in his leg. Alistair knelt down beside him, looking worried.

"Are you all right?" Alistair asked, sounding worried. "Its your leg, isnt it? Lets get to Tapsters and you can rest..Morrigan will be worried, though she won't admit it.."

"She's not at Tapsters." Darrian responded through the pain.

"What? Why not?"

"Harrowmont was having them watched. They fled mere days after we entered the Deep Roads, they feared being held captive inorder to punish us." Darrian sighed, feeling dejected now. In Morrigan's condition, if her injury was torn back open while they fled...

"What... wait.. They're not here?! Than.. Than where are they?" Alistaid was shocked.

"Its in the letter. A map to an approximate location. Lets go." Darrian tried to stand, but collapsed again. "Damn it.."

"Come on." Alistair hefted Darrian up onto his back, and carried him piggyback style out of Orzammar.

"I feel ridiculous." The elf muttered.

"You look ridiculous." Alistair grinned. It wasnt until they were outside of the heavy iron doors, standing in the circular marketplace atop the Frostback Mountains and feeling the chilly air brush against their cheeks, that they noticed Oghren had accompanied them.

"Oghren..What are you..." Darrian began, startled that the dwarf had come with them. The dwarf was staring up at the sky in wonder.

"Decided to come with ya. You put your life on the line, and convinced Branka how wrong she had been. I owe you for that." Oghren said simply. "That's a lot of .. what's it called? Sky?"

"You don't owe me anything, Oghren."

"Sod it, elf!" Oghren turned towards Darrian, his face red. Embarrassment? Rage? "Just let me come and help ya kill the darkspawn and that blighted Arch Demon! By the stone, its 'bout time some dwarf took it seriously!"

"Well, now that you mention it.. You did drink my share of the ale.." Darrian decided.

"That's more like it!"

Alistair shook his head, chuckling while Sten looked not a bit amused.

"Come on. They girls are waiting for us." They started the trek down Frostback Mountain, their thoughts on their companions they were about to rejoin, and hoping not to linger on the events that had occured deep within the belly of the earth.

It was a long week before the located the moving village where the girls had taken refuge, and it wasn't a moment too soon. Darrian's condition had gotten worse. He was weak and lethargic, barely staying awake while they traveled, and Alistair ended up carrying him on his back most of the journey.

They were greeted by surface dwarves and other similar outcasts, than Leliana came rushing out of a covered wagon to meet them. At first she looked delighted, than frightened when she caught sight of Darrian's pale face.

"What happened?" She asked, her tone concerned as Alistair laid Darrian down on a stretcher some of the dwarves had brought.

"I think he hasn't eaten." Alistair said sourly. "We were stuck in the Deep Roads too long, our rations nearly depleted. Than we left Orzammar without restocking." He sighed, looking grief stricken. "There always seemed to be just enough to cover Sten, Oghren, and myself.. We didn't notice how far he had degenerated until a few days ago. And when we tried to get him to eat.. He couldn't keep anything down, or stay awake..."

Leliana frowned slightly, than put a reassuring hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Don't worry. Its not your fault. We'll get him better." She turned and raised her voice. "Amell! We've got a patient for you!"

"Coming!" A wide eyed, brown haired girl clad in colorful robes hurried forward. She flashed Alistair and the others a smile, than knelt down by Darrian, her brow furrowed. She gently laid her hands on his chest as they began to grow green.

"Magic! She's an.." Alistair caught himself from saying apostate. The girl was helping them. He was not a templar. If she got Darrian back to the way he was, than everything would be worth it.

After a few long tense moments, Amell stood again as she brushed hair away from her face. "He'll be okay. But.. "She glanced at two dwarven women who had followed her. "Can you take him into the infirmary? He needs some rest." She than turned her attention to a few elves who were watching her. "Can you heat up from broth? Perhaps some oatmeal? With honey? Something easy to eat. Tea too." The mage rambled off. The dwarves hurried to the biggest wagon, Darrian suspended between them in the stretcher. Duncan ran after them. The elves hurried off as well, and than Amell turned to Alistair and Leliana again.

"So. Um..." She suddenly flushed, glancing down at her feet shyly. "Welcome to Chapel. Its not much.. but..."

"Dear lady.. Its much better than where we've been." Alistair said sincerly, gripping her hand in his to reassure her. "Thank you for taking care of Darrian."

Her face was beet red now. "OH! Its.. Its nothing! Really! I ... I... have always been a good healer..And Leliana and Morrigan have talked about you all so much..." She yanked her hand back, taking a step backwards.

"Ah, than you must not of heard good things from Morrigan." Alistair jested.

"Uh.." Amell giggled. "Not about all of you, no. But she spoke highly of Darrian. Leliana spoke highly of the rest of you." She glanced at Oghren. "Though.. she did not mention a dwarf."

"Oh, well.." Alistair glanced at Oghren and smiled. "He's a stray. Kinda followed us. And look at that face. Who could tell him no?"

Oghren burped loudly.

"Precious." Amell giggled some more. Leliana glanced from Alistair to Amell, smirking slightly.

"Come on Sten." Leliana beckoned. "I'll show you to your tent, so you can get settled." She looked at Oghren, who was glancing about the place with deep interest. "You can come too, if you want to rest."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comin' girly." Oghren grunted, than followed Leliana as she led him and Sten away.

"I'm Gwen.. by the way." Amell suddenly said, sticking out the hand she had yanked away from Alistair. "People only call me Amell when I'm in trouble.. Or they're in trouble.. Or both."

Alistair grinned, taking her hand and shaking it. "I'm Alistair. Though you probably figured that out."

"Uh, yes. Yes I did." Gwen smiled, risking a glance at Alistair. "Anyway... Uh.. I've best be going. Things to attend too, you see... Its nice meeting you!" She blushed furiously before darting away, leaving Alistair looking a tad confused.

_Augh.. why am I so sore... _Darrian awoke slowly, groaning as he did.

" 'Tis a foolish thing you've done."

_Morrigan!_

"What did I do now...?" Darrian asked, trying to sit up. His eyes weren't focusing, the room around him was blurry and he was only vaguely aware of a form moving towards him and gently laying him back down.

"You almost starved yourself, Darrian! What were you thinking?" Her tone was disapproving. He didn't answer, just reached out weakly with one hand, which Morrigan took in her own. The softness of her hand made him feel more at ease.

_How much time has passed? Are we out of the Deep Roads? We must be.. Morrigan is here._

Darrian forged through his foggy memory, getting flashes of darkspawn, anger, the bite of a chilly wind and Alistair's concerned voice.

"... Should I apologize?" He asked weakly, trying to open his eyes again. Again, they refused to focus.

"... You should eat." Morrigan said, her voice more sympathetic than he had ever heard it. She helped him sit up and than quietly fed him. The food was soft, and sweet. But mostly warm. It was perhaps the most delicious thing Darrian had ever eaten. After eating he drifted off again, this time sleeping peacefully.

A few hours later he was woke up to Duncan licking his hand. "Ah, good boy." Darrian said with a smile, scratching the Mabari behind the ears. His eyes would focus now, but the place he was in was dark. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, and he could barely make out a few sleeping forms on cots close by.

He sat up, though with a bit of difficulty and his stomach rumbled with hunger. I wonder if Sten has anymore cookies..

The elf moved as quietly as he could, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and carefully easing himself into a standing position. Duncan gave a sad whimper as Darrian stumbled with his first step.

"Shush, I'm fine. Really." Darrian reassured his mabari, patting the dog's head again. "I just want to get some food.. find out where I am.." His next steps were more stable, and he was able to slip out of the wagon's door without anyone noticing.

Chapel was eerie at night. Not a single fire was burning and the pitched tents and worn down wagons looked abandoned. The thick layer of snow covering everything didn't help either. Darrian shivered as a cold breeze caught him.

_I am definitely not dressed for this..._

He looked down at himself and realized he was only wearing pants. No shirt, no shoes. Someone had ripped the left pants leg off at the knee, and his calf was wrapped with a clean bandage.

_Maker.. I'm not dressed at all.. Wait. someone tended my leg.. Was it Morrigan? Does she know...?_

Panic flooded through him at the thought of Morrigan realizing he had allowed himself to be injured because he was worried about her. Her wrath would be unrelenting if she realized the injury was indeed worse than he had let on.

She would never let me hear the end of it.. His ears drooped slightly at that thought, than his stomach rumbled again_. Right. Food._

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he wandered around the campsite looking for anything to eat. Darrian peeked in a few tents but only saw sleeping figures.

He shivered unvoluntarily, glancing at Duncan. "Perhaps we should go back inside?" The mabari barked his assent. Darrian made his way back to the wagon, pausing when he heard a hushed voices speaking in another wagon. Unable to resist the urge to easedrop, he lightly stepped over to the wagon and put his ear to the door.

"Did you hear about the riots?" One voice was saying, an elven one, male.

"In Denerim? Yeah.. Poor things." A female replied, sounding mournful. "I'm glad we never got there than, the Alienage is in no place to accept new blood in the state its in."

"Which is a shame. They would need new blood to replace the blood they lost. I heard the streets ran red for a week."

They continued to speak, but Darrian could no longer hear_. Riots... Denerim... The Alienage...__**SORIS, SHIANNI...**__blood.._

He made it back to the wagon he had woken up in, unaware he was moving at all. His mind was racing with unpleasant thoughts.

_The Alienage.. What happened.. Is Shianni okay? Soris? They have to be! I left to protect them! I'm a warden to PROTECT THEM! The Arl shouldn't of reacted.. The murdered... I ... was punished... How many were killed? I need to go back.. I need to know.._

_NO! You're a Warden now. It doesn't matter what happened to them. It doesn't matter if they died bleeding in the streets. Your only concern is the blight. You left them behind, they don't NEED YOU ANY MORE._

_Don't need me anymore..._

Flashes of Soris saying goodbye, of Shianni telling him she'll handle things, of his neighbors looking at him when he left.. as though they were better off without him..ran through his mind. He couldn't shake off this overwhelming feeling of uneasiness.

Darrian laid awake, his eyes staring up at the dark ceiling. He had no idea how much time had passed before Alistair burst into the wagon and came to his bedside. The elf quickly pretended to of been startled awake.

"You're all right!" Alistair sounded quite relieved.

"No, I'm Darrian." The elf forced a small smile as he sat up. "And hungry."

The shemlen warden chuckled. "They've got a pot of stew on the fire. I'll bring you some." Alistair made to leave, but Darrian held him back.

"Denerim. What happened in Denerim while we were underground?" His voice was quiet as he spoke.

Alistair hesitated.

_He knows. He doesn't want to tell me. _

"Damn it, Alistair, I'm not a child! TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!" Darrian shouted, turning towards the shemlen with pain in his eyes.

"... The Arl died during Ostagar. And with his son dead before him, there was no one to take his place. Loghain.." Alistair's voice turned sour as he bitterly said that name. ".. appointed Arl Howe of Amaranthine as the new Arl of Denerim. He... has not been kind."

_Loghain.. Loghain again... That greasy bastard was going to be the bane of my exsistance until I slit his traitorous throat.._

"The Alienage... What happened to the Alienage.." Darrian insisted.

"... There was a riot.. Supposedly." Alistair avoided Darrian's gaze, starring instead at the sad looking mabari who was whimpering at the news.

"Supposedly?"

"Its what the Arl claims. They were rising against him, under... your banner." Alistair's voice went quiet as he spoke the last words, he even winced, expecting Darrian to yell in retaliation.

_Your Banner... _

The words echoed inside of Darrian's head, taking a few minutes to sink in_. Its all my fault.. They died because of me... That blighted Arl used my speaking out against Loghain to punish them.. That had to be it. They wouldn't revolt. Even as short fused as Shianni was.. she was intelligent enough to know a revolt would cause death.. My father would of stopped them... The hahren would not of stood for it.._

"Its all my fault.." Darrian said quietly, his face blanching.

"What?" Alistair asked, obviously surprised he didn't get yelled at.

"... Nothing. Help me find some clothes. I don't want to be stuck in here." Darrian changed the subject quickly.

Alistair looked at him concerned, but let it go. "Your armor is over here. And a furlined cloak and gloves."

A few minutes later, Darrian was dressed warmly and sitting by the fire outside. Leliana had rejoiced when she saw him, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him to push her away.

Sten and Oghren were there as well, along with an apostate girl whom Darrian guess had healed him. Though...

"Where's Morrigan?" Darrian asked between bites of his stew. Leliana and Alistair exchanged a look.

"She's.." Leliana started.

"She's sulking." Alistair said, looking disgusted.

"...sulking?" Darrian asked with a slight smirk. "I didn't know she knew how.."

"She wouldn't admit it, of course. According to her, she's off to gather herbs or some nonsense. But she's sulking." Alistair shrugged. "And I am guessing it has to do with you."

Darrian frowned. _Why does every little damn thing have to do with me. Is she upset about my unplanned starvation? My leg? The way I wear my hair? Maker only knows_.

He finished his stew quickly than stood up. "Where is she? I should go bring her back." _Its what she's probably waiting for._

The apostate looked up. Amell, that was her name. "She's in the clearing to the north. Said she found some winterberry." Amell shot a look at Alistair, who grinned sheepishly. "And she's not sulking. She had herself worried sick over you. Morrigan just doesn't want you to see." She stated a matter of factly.

Darrian could not contain his smile. "Thanks." He headed off to the clearing mentioned, having to stop once and ask someone for directions.

"Tis no need to step so quietly. I know tis you." Morrigan remarkled as he entered the small clearing. It was completely snow covered except for a plant with a violently purple bloom. Morrigan had been plucking its leaves and petals and placing them in a basket when he arrived.

"I wasn't trying to be quiet, actually.." Darrian replied, feeling slightly anxious. He had not had a proper conversation with her for well over a month, not since they spent the night together.. The elf found himself at a loss for words.

"Do not just stand there, mouth agape. Help me harvest this winterberry. It is to be used for a poultice for your leg." Morrigan said, not meeting his gaze as he walked over to help her.

"Ah.." Darrian felt like a small child getting scolded by his mother, and Morrigan had barely said anything thing. A few quiet moments passed as they worked on harvesting the winterberry. "... I'm glad you're all right. I was worried."

Morrigan blushed lightly. "You had nothing to fear, foolish boy. Of course I am all right. Tis I who should of been worried."

"Were you worried?" Darrian asked with a hint of a smile.

"Wha.. what? Of course not!" Morrigan stumbled over her words before regaining her composure. The elf smiled broadly.

"Yes you were." He insisted.

"No, I was not! Do not be foolish!" Morrigan protested, turning away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Darrian shrugged, than took the basket away from her. "If you insist." He made to go back to camp, but Morrigan called after him.

"Wait, you are leaving?"

He smirked again, turning back towards her. Darrian waved his hand dismissively. "I came here thinking you might of cared how I was doing... Since I'm wrong, I won't bother you."

"I never said I did not care!" Morrigan flared, her anger rising.

"Ah, so you do care." Darrian smiled, pleased that his trap had worked.

"I... I... I never.. "Morrigan stumbled.

The elf stepped over to her, taking one of her hands in his free one. "Its okay. I promise not to tell." He tilted his face upwards and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"You have not seen me in well over a month, and you kiss my cheek?" Morrigan had recovered her composure, and now looked at him contemptuously. "Surely you can do better than that, my foolish boy."

Darrian smirked, placing the basket of herbs at his feet than gently taking her face in his hands. Their lips touched for mere moments when they were interrupted by giggling.

"Shhh! They'll hear us!" Leliana hissed.

"I can't help it.. its so sweet." Gwendolyn Amell giggled.

"It seems we have an audience." Morrigan commented, glancing at the rock Leliana and Gwen were barely hiding behind. "Tis most interesting indeed."

"Hm? I don't see anyone here but you." Darrian grinned, almost laughing himself at the cheesiness of his line.

"Truly? Well than, let us not be interrupted." Their lips met again, and they held each other like lovers for a few long moments before breaking.

"What's taking so... Oh Maker.. ew.." Alistair whined, having just arrived in time to see the kiss.

"It is over, Alistair. You have nothing to fear." Morrigan said, looking amused. "I trust there is still some stew left? Our leader had gotten too skinny, and needs to fatten up if he is to be of any use to me."

Darrian opened his mouth to retort but he just chuckled.

Soon, they were back around the campfire, Darrian was finishing his third bowl of stew with Morrigan at his side. Alistair glanced at them, looking as if he wanted to say something, but held his tongue.

"What's wrong, Alistair?" Darrian asked, a brow raised.

"I was just wonder.. where are we headed next?"

_Of course, the treaties_. "Redcliffe." Darrian responded, though his heart screamed DENERIM!

Alistair looked surprised. "R-really?"

"Redcliffe?" Gwendolyn suddenly looked up from the poultice she was making. "I.. if you are going to Redcliffe... can ... can you take a letter for me?" She pulled a parchment envelope sealed with wax out of her bag.

Darrian glanced at Amell somewhat suspiciously, but Alistair took the envelope and grinned graciously. "Of course. Who do you want it delivered too?"

"...His name is Jowan.. I heard he was working for the Arlessa..As a tutor for her son." Gwen's face went red and she turned away.

"We'll take it. No problem." Darrian agreed offhandely. "We'll be going to the castle anyway, shouldn't be too much of a burden."

"Oh, thank you!" Gwen turned to him, looking surprisingly grateful.

"Don't come any closer! I don't need any surprise hugs of gratitude!" Darrian inched away.

Alistair, Leliana and Gwen laughed.


	16. Chapter 16

Dragon Age Origins : Original Fan-Fiction

Power of the Ring

Chapter Sixteen: Road to Redcliffe

It had been a few days since they left Chapel. The air around them was beginning to warm up as they trudged down the mountain, and Darrian found that he did not need to hold his cloak quite as close any longer. The change in temperature had also given him some relief in his leg, the warmth allowing the muscle to loosen up.

This was a good thing. Darrian had still not explained his injury to Morrigan, and she had not pressed. That, at least, he was thankful for. He was also thankful for being out in the open air once more. He had not been in a shape to enjoy it during their stay at Chapel, but now that they were back on the road, Darrian took every possible moment to relish in it. Before they left the snow line, he had gotten into a snow ball fight with Alistair and Oghren. Leliana even joined in, giggling much like a school girl as she scored a shot in Oghren's face, making his beard look frosted.

" 'Tis foolishness." Morrigan disapproved, of course, but did not protest openly. While she was sure no one was looking, she even allowed herself a small smile as she watched a delighted Darrian tackled Alistair around the knees, causing the latter to fall head first into the snow.

They made camp right at the edge of the snow line. Alistair tended to the fire while Leliana prepared the evening's meal. Usually Darrian would do one, if not both, of those chores. However, since their campaign into the Deep Roads, no one seemed willing to let Darrian lift so much as a finger. This left him quite frustrated. Without the camp chores or a cheerful snowball fight to keep his mind off of things, Darrian was soon in a cross mood. He settled himself at the camp fire, his arms crossed over his knees. He watched the flames dance before him, images of Shianni, Soris, his father and the shemlen Duncan dancing within.

"Damn it." He cursed quietly to himself, burying his face in his hands only momentarily before regaining his composure. His companions were all watching him a bit too closely for his liking, he couln't... wouldn't... reveal his weaknesses to them.

"Elf..." The smell of ale wafted into Darrian's nose as Oghren came and stood next to him. The elf made a face then looked up at Oghren. The dwarf was obviously intoxicated, that wasn't a surprise, and was a bit unsteady on his feet.

"What is it, Oghren?" Darrian smirked slightly. Oghren's drunken chats had been entertaining thus far.

"Tell your sodding dog to give them back!" Oghren insisted.

_Give what back? _Darrian wondered as he glanced over at Duncan, who was muzzle deep inside of Alistair's pack. "... He doesn't appear to have anything of yours.. What exactly do you want back?"

"My pants!" The dwarf demanded, looking enraged. "That sodding dog made off with my pants!"

Darrian suppressed a chuckle. "Oghren..." He first glanced downwards to make sure Oghren had not actually lost his pants. The dwarf still had his pants, much to Darrian's relief. "... You are wearing your pants."

"So you're in cahoots! I won't stand for this..." Oghren started off loudly, but his voice trailed off and soon he tettered backwards and fell hard on the ground with a resounding thud.

It had come to the point where Darrian wasn't even surprised by this any longer. Oghren had fallen asleep in a drunken stupor, like every other time, and by morning he would of forgotten his stolen pants. Still, the diversion had made Darrian smile. Not to mention it had taken his mind off of the images he saw in the fire.

"Rauuff!" Duncan barked, making his way over to Darrian with several of Alistair's things held between his teeth.

"Silly mabari." Darrian shook his head and gingerly removed a few socks and a wet parchment envelope from the mabari's mouth. "I dont think Alistair keeps lamb bones in his pack, boy."

"HE-EY! That's mine!" Alistair had glanced up from the fire, and noticed that the contents of his pack had been forcefully removed and scattered across the camp. He was red with embarrassment as he snatched the enevelope from Darrian's hands, his brow furrowing as he noted its condition. "Oh Maker... He ruined it..."

Darrian was about to apologize when his sharp eyes caught sight of the seal that bound the enevelope. "Hey.. Isnt that the letter that healer asked you to deliver? Amell was it?"

"Gwen. Her name is Gwen." Alistair insisted while he attempted to wipe the dog drool off of the enevelope. "How am I going to deliver it now... " The shemlen warden whined like a puppy.

"I'm sure its still readable inside... Why don't you check?" Darrian had broken out into an evil smirk. He recalled Alistair cradling that letter with the upmost care, and often falling asleep with it still on his chest. He also recalled the looks Alistair had bestowed upon Gwendolyn Amell while they departed Chapel, though he doubt Alistair had noticed himself.

"What!? NO!" Alistair protested, shoving the letter into his pants pocket. "I couldn't invade Gwen's privacy like that!"

"Oh come now, Alistair.." Leliana piped in, smiling softly. "I've seen you toying with the seal. You want to know who this Jowan is to her, don't you?"

Alistair's face was thoroughly red as he shook his head in denial. "No, I... I... Have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Its perfectly natural, Alistair. When a boy likes a girl, of course he'll want to keep an eye out for competition." Leliana cooed while Darrian clutched his sides and failed miserably at not laughing.

"C-C-Competition? No! NO! She... I... ITS NOT LIKE THAT!" Alistair suddenly stood and stormed into his tent, grabbing his things from the ground as he did so.

"T-that... Oh man..." Darrian could not formulate his thoughts into words as he laughed merrily.

"I think its sweet." Leliana smiled softly, spooning the now finished stew into several bowls. "Like you and Morrigan."

Darrian's ears turned slightly red. "Ah... I.. have no idea what you're talking about." He muttered with a slight smirk.

"Sure you don't." Leliana handed him his bowl.

The rest of the night went by quietly, though Morrigan did invite Darrian into her tent and he awoke the next morning still tangled within her arms. He yawned and sat up, partially disengaging himself from the sleeping witch. When he looked over at her sleeping face, he couldn't help but smile. However, his smile was tainted with bitterness.

_Am I being used? _Darrian couldn't help but wonder as he gently pushed the hair out of Morrigan's pale face. _If I am, how do I feel about that... If I'm honest with myself, I..._

He shook his head, denying himself the last piece of clarity. _Now isn't the time. I don't deserve to know the answer. So what if I'm just a bit of sport to her... _He lied to himself as his heart ached.

_Maker._

"'Tis just morning, and already your brow is furrowed with such deep brooding thoughts." Morrigan noted as she stirred besides him. She draped her arms around his shoulders, kissing his neck. "Now tell me what's on your mind."

Darrian glanced at her, his blue eyes filled with conflict as they met her sharp golden ones. He once again found his tongue tied, unable to speak. "...Just... some nightmares." He managed to squeeze out the lie.

"That so?" Morrigan asked with a raised brow. It was obvious she did not believe him, but Darrian was pleased when she didn't press the issue.

"You hungry? It's my turn to make breakfast, and I think we have some sausages..." Darrian mumbled, pulling himself away from Morrigan, who looked slightly cross at the idea. The elf stood, and quickly dressed. He then left the tent without as much as a glance backwards towards the witch.

" 'Tis most troubling." Morrigan muttered.

That very day, they encountered a woman on the road. She pleaded to Alistair to come and aid them, claiming that a band of bandits had ransacked her caravan and were murdering people.

_Great. A shemlen to save. _Darrian sighed, his mood had not improved. _Still. Bandits. I haven't shanked something in awhile._

The group approached what looked like a raided caravan. Darrian's ears twitched when he noticed the shemlen woman who had asked their aid run ahead of the group. He narrowed his eyes and then looked at the surroundings, noting the high cliff walls they were passing through.

This is a remarkably good place for a..."Ambush!" Darrian yelled, knocking Alistair out of the way of a falling tree which now blocked them from retreating. Sure enough, as he called out the warning a blonde elf climbed from behind one of the toppled carts.

"The Grey Wardens die here!" Several other would be assassins pulled themselves out of hiding, brandishing their weapons.

_Great. Just great. Really. My life hasn't been threatened in almost three days. I almost missed it... Wait. No I didn't. _Darrian grimaced as he moved quickly, his blades dancing in air as he cut down any one in his way. He was making a beeline to the other elf, obviously the one in charge. Darrian had a feeling he knew who had ordered this hit. It was obviously a hit. Bandits wouldn't bother with a trap like this, and they wouldn't seek out the Grey Wardens either.

_The greasy haired, hook nosed cowardly bastard!_

It took Darrian and the others remarkably little time to cut the assassins down. Darrian had left the blonde elf alive. Partially for respect for the man's skill, but mostly so he could be questioned. A short time later the assassin, called Zevran Arainai, confessed that it had indeed been Loghain who had hired him.

"So what do you intend to do with me now?" Zevran inquired, still sprawled in the dirt, restrained by rope. "I only ask that if you kill me, that you don't torture and eat me. I have nightmares of that sort of thing." He jested.

"You're coming with us." Darrian announced kneeling down to cut Zevran's bindings.

"Wait. What? This is a poor jest, but I'll laugh if you wish..." Zevran scurried to his feet, massaging his wrists where the rope had bound him.

"Yes. What?" Alistair turned towards Darrian, a brow raised questioningly. "We're taking the Antivan assassin with us?"

Darrian shrugged. "Yep. Might as well. We've got an ex-templar, a witch, a drunk drawf, a convicted murderer with a sweet tooth and a fake chantry sister." He looked over at Zevran and smiled slightly. "It'll be refreshing having another elf. Maybe he won't turn out to be as big of a bastard as I am?"

"Then I swear my oath to you, from this day forward.." Zevran began, but Darrian didn't bother to listen to the whole spiel.

In the hours that followed, it became quite obvoius that Zevran thought himself quite the charmer. His attempts to flirt with Leliana, Morrigan and even Darrian himself were humorous indeed. The other elf seemed to be able to make anything anyone said into a sexual innuendo, and Darrian was certain Alistair's ears were now permanently flushed from embarrassment.

"Well, where are we headed, good Warden?" Zevran asked as he hurried his steps to match Darrian's pace.

"I have a name, you know. Would you want people wandering around calling you Assassin constantly?" Darrian said a bit too harshly. Zevran raised a brow curiously.

"Darrian, yes? I will call you this if you wish." Zevran grinned micheveiously, eyeing Darrian up and down. "I can think of a few other things to call you, if you desired."

Morrigan made a noise of disapproval from behind them.

"No. Don't bother. Darrian's fine."

"Ah, I see. She keeps you on a short leash then?" Zevran remarked, glancing back at Morrigan before turning to Darrian once more.

Darrian's ears and cheeks flushed. _Maker, I thought I was over getting embarrassed like this. "_There's no leash. There's..." His words halted, as did his feet, causing an unobservant Alistair to crash into him from behind.

"Aaaahhhh!" Alistair stumbled, quickly catching his balance. "Watch it!"

Darrian barely heard him. His mind had teleported back to that morning. Waking up besides Morrigan, and the sudden onslaught of doubts.

"Darrian? You seem rather troubled, perhaps I should not of brought it up?" Zevran asked, sounding a tad concerned. By then, Morrigan and the others had caught up with them.

"Hey, what's the hold up?" Oghren protested. "I want to get to a tavern and have a proper drink!"

"Is there a problem?" Leliana also sounded concerned. Darrian still stood rooted to the spot he had stopped on. His face blank and eyes staring down at the dirt.

"... Darrian? " Morrigan's voice reached him now, as she reached over and lightly touched his shoulder. He instinctively pulled away, though it did shake him out of his thoughts. When he realized who he had just pulled away from, Darrian's eyes widened and he turned towards her.

Morrigan's arms were crossed now, and she looked cross. "What is this foolishness? What is so interesting about the ground before you that you must stare at it so intently?"

"... Morrigan... It was nothing, sorry..." Darrian fumbled, looking ashamed. _Maker, what is wrong with me.._

"No, I do not accept that." Morrigan shook her head then stared at him with her golden, disapproving gaze. "You have been acting like a fool all day, and I would know why."

The others gathered around, their gazes switching from witch to elf, depending on who spoke. Alistair dug into his pack and pulled out some walnuts they had gathered and deshelled the previous day. He offered them around.

"This... sort of display... happens often, yes?" Zevran asked, accepting a few of the nuts.

"Not lately..." Leliana muttered, torn between concern and amusement.

"Which would explain why everyone seems so intrigued. Excellent."

Meanwhile, Darrian refused to give Morrigan his reason. "I said I was sorry... Does it really matter what I had on my mind? Aren't I allowed to be the fool every now and again?" His voice was raised, and he sounded angry. _This isn't the place to confront her... this isn't the time to ask... _He made another effort to bite his tongue, but it was obvious Morrigan was not going to let this go.

" 'Tis not enough! You act like Alistair, and you expect me not to question it?" The witch spat bitterly. "I have held my tongue enough... ( "Could of fooled me." Alistair muttered from the sidelines.) ...but no more! I demand an explanation."

"Held your tongue? Have you really?" Darrian rounded on her, his speech was so heated he had taken to waving his arms in wild motions to emphasize his words. "I never hear the end of it from you! Whether it be the way I spend my portion of the gold, if I'm a bit reckless, even if I talk to Alistair more then you think I ought to you disapprove!" I'm acting like a brat... a child... a complete fool. Even I know I'm spouting nonsense.. Though the elf chided himself, he found he could not hold his tongue. His pent up feelings were coming out now, though in the worse possible way. "Name one instance where you've held this sharp tongue of yours!"

Morrigan's face flushed as she averted her gaze from his. "... Your leg..."

With that, Darrian was floored. M-my leg.. The wound.. did she notice? Damn..Damn Damn...

Morrigan ignored Darrian's dropped jaw and continued. "I have not uttered one word of your wounded leg. Did you think I was so ignorant as to not notice? To not of known that you had been foolish enough to run to me when I was injured while facing the Carta? That I did not notice it had been troubling you ever since, but you damn pride kept you..."

"Shut it."

"...What?" Morrigan replied in a tone implying she was not used to anyone, let alone Darrian, telling her to shut it in such a cold tone.

"I said SHUT IT." Darrian raged, having regained his voice. Though this time his words were touched with heartache rather then anger. "I was foolish, was I? Rushing to your side as quick as I was able when you were shot down by that Carta bowman? So foolish that I was more concerned about you... that I might of lost you... then I was about a damned arrow in my own leg?" He was quiet for a long moment, and Morrigan seemed struck speechless as well. Alistair and Leliana exchanged a worried glance before turning back to Darrian and Morrigan in time to hear Darrian speak again.

"Maybe I was foolish. You would of had me focus on Jarvia, let you fall and sod the consequences. I know that's what I should of done but..." Darrian's voice broke. "I couldn't. " This was the worst time to announce this... especially with an audience... "Morrigan.. You want to know why I've been acting a fool? Because you make me feel like one!"

"I? You cannot blame your foolishness on I!" Morrigan replied, sounding a bit put out.

"Do you love me, Morrigan?" Darrian suddenly asked. He could feel his heart beating quickly within his chest. Now he would know.

"W-what!?" Morrigan was so startled by this, she took a step backwards. "I... what is this nonsense? Of course not!"

Of course not..

nonsense...

There it was. Darrian turned away before speaking. "Then I suppose you wouldn't understand what would make a person act so foolishly." He muttered before beginning to walk again. "Come on. I want to make it to Redcliffe as quickly as possible."

Alistair nodded, his brow furrowed as he fell into step behind Darrian. "Darrian... I.."He began, not sure how to console him.

"Don't. Just don't. Not now." Darrian replied with a heavy sigh. Duncan trotted up besides him, nosing his hand with his cold nose to offer his silent support.


	17. Chapter 17

Dragon Age Origins : Original Fan-Fiction

Power of the Ring

Chapter Seventeen: The Undead Siege Part One

_I made a mess of things, didn't I? _Darrian thought woefully as he lead the group in their silent march towards Redcliffe. _I never thought she would... I knew she would react that way. But I went and ruined it all. _He sighed heavily. Duncan muzzled the elf's hand affectionately, giving a soft whine.

"I'm okay boy." Darrian patted his mabari hound on the muzzle.

" 'Tis getting quite dark, Warden." Morrigan's sharp voice came from behind him. The word warden stung like a dagger in his heart. "Perhaps it would be best if we made the rest of the way to Redcliffe on the morrow?"

Darrian turned to look at her, and her cross expression made him smile sadly. "Oh. Yes. Of course. There's a clearing over there." He half heartedly gestured as he turned away from her again.

"This is how it will be then? You will not even engage me in simple conversation?" Morrigan asked as she reached out and grabbed Darrian's arm while the others moved to make camp. Zevran paused, as if expecting another show, but Alistair and Sten grabbed him by the arms and lifted him up before dragging him away.

Darrian turned back towards Morrigan, with a slightly amused smile. "Morrigan, despite what you might feel for me, I will always enjoy talking to you. You're a brilliant and entertaining woman." _Maker, I'm laying it on a bit thick_. "However, pointing out that its quite dark isn't the best way to engage me in lengthy conversation. If that was so your desire, I'm sure there are at least a dozen more indepth topics you could choose from." His retorted, his smile twisting slightly.

"... ... Do you think ill of me now?" Morrigan asked, a wounded tone in her voice. She withdrew her hand from his arm and crossed her arms as she glanced away.

Darrian's expression softened. Maker... Morrigan... Is she... she's acting so insecure. Almost without realizing what he was doing, Darrian took a step towards her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. He was about to speak when he finally registered the wetness beneath his fingertips.

_Had Morrigan been... crying? Not that she would admit it to anyone, of course. But.. Yes. Her eyes are slightly red. Oh dear._

"I'm a fool, remember?" He said in a cheerier voice then he felt. "I don't think I'm capable of thinking ill of you." Darrian resisted the urge to tease her, he did not want her retreating any farther from him then she already had.

"You are indeed a fool." Morrigan huffed, pulling her cheek away from his hand, but not before he caught glimpse of a small smile on her lips. "Even I would not wish to associate with someone who wou-" She paused, blushing momentarily before regaining her composure. " Could not return my feelings." Darrian broke out in a wide grin, then he started to laugh. In fact, he started to laugh so hard he was having trouble standing.

"Wha-what is this?" Morrigan sounded rightfully offended.

"I-I'm sorry..." Darrian said as he struggled to stop laughing. "Its just..." He wiped mirthful tears from his face. "I guess you don't realize how ridiculous the idea of hating you is to me. How... impossible the idea that I would not want to speak with you any more is." The elf straightened up and regained his composure. "Look. Morrigan. I didn't fall in love with some false ideal of how you should be. I fell in love with you. Sarcastic witch that you are. I wouldn't expect you to express emotion you do not have."

Morrigan's face flushed again, this time with rage. "You insolent elf! You think I incapable of love?!" The moment the words left her mouth, she seemed ashamed of having spoken them.

Darrian tilted his head to the side curiously. "Are you? You've never spoken fondly of it."

" 'tis true. Perhaps... I have not given it proper thought." She muttered, glancing away again.

"Give it some thought, if you want." Darrian shrugged.

"Are you asking this of me?"

Darrian shook his head. "No. If you want to question yourself, its on you. I'm never going to question a thing about you."

Morrigan looked at his curiously. "You... are a strange man, Darrian."

"Oh? No longer Warden, am I?" Darrian jested before he could stop himself. Morrigan did not react like he would of expected. Instead of a cross look of disapproval she simply smirked.

"No, I suppose you are not. Now come, before Alistair attempts to make lamb stew again."

_Tis most disturbing_. Morrigan thought that evening as she lay in her tent admist the furs she slept on. By her side lay Darrian's silent and sleeping form. She had invited him to her tent once more, feigning cold. He had accepted, but only to talk and he had inadvertantly fallen asleep. _The witch had not found it within her to wake him and send him away. What a foolish woman I am. This was only a game... a fling. A way to pass the time. Merely two people of a similar mind enjoying each other. When did I get so involved? When did the pain in Darrian's eyes upset me so? _ She sat up, stretching, gazing over at Darrian. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him.

"Damn you, elf." Morrigan muttered to herself as she stood and wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and slipped out of her tent. Sten was stoically standing guard, but made no motion to stop her as she slipped out of the camp's boundaries and walked a few paces into the underbrush. As she walked a bit farther from camp, she shifted into a wolf.

_Perhaps a run through the forest will clear my mind_. Morrigan hoped as she dashed forward, the powerful canine shape she had adopted propelling her quickly along the forest's floor. For a few minutes it was as if she was back in the Wilds, back where things made sense and she had no reason to doubt.

In the Wilds things were simplier. Survival, strength, instinct... these were what mattered. Not loyalty, not love. A wolf's heart did not flutter about like petals on the breeze. A hawk only thought about catching its next meal.

_You are not an animal, Morrigan. _A voice gnawed at her. _You are a flesh and blood human woman. With dreams, desires, and hopes._

_I do not know how. _Morrigan admitted as she came to a stop by a small stream. _My mother did not teach me how not to act like an animal. She did not teach me the values of affection, of companionship... of love._

_Is this truly something I can learn on my own? It would defy Mother's teachings, surely. There is no strength to be had, nothing to gain from sharing one's life solely with one other._

She settled herself down by the stream, crossing her paws and placidly laying her head on top of them.

_There is nothing to be gained._

Morrigan was back in the tent, sleeping soundly with her back to Darrian when he awoke. He yawned, then instinctively leaned over to kiss the witch awake. He paused halfway through, but decided to do it anyway. After planting a soft kiss on Morrigan's temple, Darrian stretched and then slipped out of Morrigan's tent.

"Rauuff!" Duncan barked as he stirred from his resting place at the entrance to Morrigan's tent. Darrian reached over and scratched the mabari's ear before heading to start the camp fire and start breakfast. He was surprised to see Alistair already awake and fully clad in armor, poking the fire absentmindedly with a stick.

"You should be careful with that." Darrian cautioned with a grin. "Send a spark the wrong way, and you're likely to ignite the fumes coming from Oghren's tent."

Alistair just mumbled in response, still poking the fire.

"Hey." Darrian stepped closer, leaning down to put his face in Alistair's line of sight. "Yo. Shemlen. Are you trying to set the camp ablaze? What's wrong with you?"

Alistair jerked his head back in surprise, with so much force he ended up toppling backwards off his seat and landing hard on the ground. "Ahh Oww... Damn it, did you have to surprise me like that?" He rubbed his head as he got back into a sitting position.

"Alistair. I wasn't exactly being sneaky. I stepped on every crunchy leaf and twig I could find on the way from the other side of camp, straight to you." Darrian glanced over at Morrigan's tent then back to Alistair. "Which is all straight in your line of sight. Is this how you keep watch? If so, you're terrible at it."

"Wha-Oh.." Alistair looked a bit embarrassed. "Sorry... I... I just have a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Darrian sat down in the dirt near Alistair while the others roused themselves and began packing up camp. "Hm? Well?" The elf looked at the ex-templar expectantly.

"Well what?"

"What's on your mind? You always tell me." Darrian stated a matter of factly.

"I do not!" Alistair denied it, looking slightly flustered. "... Okay, well maybe I do. But that's only because there's no one else to talk to in this blasted camp." He mumbled, avoiding Darrian's gaze.

"Other then a false chantry sister, a witch, a mabari, a qunari, a dwarf and an assassin?" Darrian responded, raising a brow.

"Other then a woman, an evil evil witch woman, a dog that won't listen to me, a tall tall man that won't respond to me, a dwarf who wouldn't comprehend me due to his inebriation, and the elf that tried to kill us?" Alistair replied with a snarky grin. " Kinda leaves the elven bastard that I punched once and have to save the world with."

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and won't ask why you don't want to talk to a woman about it..." Darrian's eyes went wide and he scooted a bit away from Alistair. "It isn't... THAT... kind of problem, is it?"

"That kind? What do you mean..."Alistair paused, his face flushing deeply as comprehension dawned on him. "DEAR MAKER NO!" He shouted. "NO NO NO!" He shook his head with each no.

"Huh. Too bad. So you didn't read Gwen's letter?"

"What? Of course not!" Alistair blushed even harder.

"So you're over denying the fact you have eyes for her?" Darrian smirked widely.

"S-shut up, you!" Alistair wagged his finger threateningly at Darrian. "This has nothing to do with her, or any other woman. Its... Its something I should of told you a long time ago.. I was just afraid..."

"I'm sorry, Alistair. You're not my type. " Darrian was grinning again. Alistair's eyes went wide, but he eventually broke out in a smile as he slugged Darrian hard on the shoulder.

"Shut up, I'm serious!" Alistair pleaded.

"Really? For once? Should I mark this day on the calendar?" Darrian dodged another blow, scrambling to his feet. "Look, I'll stop. And I'll listen, but we've got to do our share of breaking camp or Morrigan is never going to stop glaring at us."

Both Wardens turned their heads simultaneously towards where Morrigan stood, and she was indeed looking quite disapprovingly at their antics.

"Uh... Yeah. Good point."

Mere minutes later, camp was packed. Mostly due to Darrian and Alistair's haste to get out of Morrigan's disapproving glare. Once they began their march, Alistair pulled Darrian to the side to finish their discussion.

"Look. We'll be in Redcliffe by mid-afternoon, right?" Alistair began.

"Yeah.. If the maps we got at Chapel are accurate."

"Remember how I told you I was raised by Arl Eamon?" Alistair asked. Darrian nodded. "And how he raised me because I was a bastard and all that?" Again Darrian nodded, wondering where Alistair could possibly be going with this. "Well... The reason Arl Eamon took me in is because... I was Maric's son. Bastard son."

Darrian stopped walking, causing Zevran to call out. "Are we having more entertainment? What fun!" He was promptly ignored as Darrian began moving again.

"Wait. So... You and that..shemlen king, Cailian... Are were half brothers?" Darrian worked it out in his mind, though he was having trouble grasping this. "I guess... Wait. " With that, the elf reached up and grabbed Alistair's face and turned it towards him. "Huh. You do sort of look like him."

Alistair wretched his face away, then rubbed his cheeks with the palms of his hands. "Yes well... I know I should of told you..."

"Hmm. Does that greasy shem know?" Darrian scratched his chin while he continued to think, wishing once again for a beard.

"Greasy shem... You mean Loghain?" Alistair looked contemplative for a moment. "Probably.. He was King Maric's friend.

"Then he knows you're an heir to the throne. A stronger one then he or his daughter Anora would be." Darrian worked it out.

"Wait.. No! I am no way whatsoever in line for any sort of royal position! That was always perfectly clear to me. Really!" Alistair protested, waving his arms.

"Not no. Yes. These aren't regular circumstances, Alistair. Ferelden's king is dead, with out an heir. It would fall to a sibling to take on the throne." Darrian glanced sidelong at Alistair. "If a sibling could be found. Regardless of whether or not that is a motive of yours... That damned greasy shemlen is going to assume it is your prime motive. Therefore, we have to consider it."

Alistair's brow furrowed, it was obvious he was quite uncomfortable with this.

"And that's why you told me now, isn't it?" Darrian looked at the other Warden with a knowing look in his eye. "Because this Arl Eamon is going to bring it up, and that will probably be his plan, whether you like it or not."

"...Yeah." Alistair muttered. "Look, I'm sorry..."

"Stop. You don't need to apologize. Sure, it came up in conversation before, but I rather liked your explanation of being raised by devote flying dogs." Darrian grinned and nudged Alistair in the shoulder. "Don't worry... Just because you're royalty doesn't mean I'll start treating you any different. I mean, have you paid any attention at all at how I treat nobles and such?"

That made Alistair chuckle loudly. "I guess I shouldn't be too worr- WAIT. Does that mean you're going to treat me worse now?!"

Darrian shook his head, looking amused. "Nope. Believe it or not, I consider you a friend, shem. That's all that matters to me."

Alistair looked slightly teary eye, and Darrian threw up his hands to block off any attempts at hugging.

"You getting caught up in the moment again? Go hug Zevran. He's accepting all my gratitude this week."

"Why yes, good Warden." Zevran piped up, spreading his arms open. "I am willing to accept any gratitude you might have!"

"And like that... the moment is gone." Alistair sighed.

A few of the companions chuckled from behind them. Darrian clapped Alistair on the shoulder. "Come on. Redcliffe is close by. It will be nice to be able to sleep on a soft bed and a warm bath."

Hours later, they were at Redcliffe. They were met by a man named Tomas, who thought they had come to aid them against the nightly attacks on the village. As they were led to the Chantry to see some man Alistair seemed to know, Darrian became quickly aware that his hopes of a soft bed and a warm bath would not be met that day.

_Why. Why can't anything go smoothly. Just once. _Darrian grimaced as they were led through town. A nicely bearded man was barking orders to men who looked as though they had no business wielding weapons and yet they were going through practice drills. To their credit, they looked very determined.

_Whats been going on... Tomas mentioned nightly attacks... The town looks so empty, and no soldiers, no knights? Where is the army Alistair said this Arl Eamon commanded?_ Darrian wondered as they finally climbed the Chantry's steps and entered.

It was as crammed as the one they had seen in Lothering, though instead of being packed with refugees, it was full of Redcliffe citizens. Or at least, Darrian assumed thats who they were. Women, children, and the elderly, those who could not wield a weapon. _Ah. Now I understand why those men outside are fighting so hard._ The elf nodded in approval, glancing momentarily at Morrigan. _I would gladly sacrifice my life... _He shook his head, dismissing that though and instead focusing on the man they were approaching.

It was a dignified looking shemlen, dressed like a less then fancy noble. He looked tired and weary.

"Tomas, is everything all right? Who is this with you?" The man asked, looking concerned.

"Bann Teagan, this is a Grey Warden, he's come to Redcliffe to speak with Arl Eamon... It doesn't seem like anyone knows what has been happening here." Tomas said weakly.

"Very good, thank you Tomas. " Teagan nodded. "Return to your post."

"Teagan?" Alistair grinned. "I remember you, but last time I saw you, I was covered in mud."

"Mud...?" Teagan looked at him questioningly then his eyes brightened. "Alistair! It is you! You've survived!"

"Okay great, a reunion. Now, what's been going on? Nightly attacks?" Darrian interrupted rather rudely.

"Oh yes, of course..." Bann Teagan nodded then began to explain the situation. During the night for the past week, hordes of walking corpses had cascaded from the castle attacking the town. Sometimes they slaughtered the villagers, sometimes they dragged them back to the castle. Bann Teagan also told them that Arl Eamon had been ill for quite some time, and that the Arlessa Isolde has commanded the knights of Redcliffe to go search for an ancient relic inorder to save him.

_More people to save_. Darrian thought grimly, however this time was different then with the dwarves. It wasn't a bunch of nobles playing stupid games because they would not agree on a successor. This was genuine danger, and the town would be fighting as well. This shemlen noble was also willing to risk his life. Darrian also did not have a treaty to force aide from Red Cliffe. Even if he did, they were in no position to help him.

Darrian sighed heavily, and glanced over at Alistair_. I have to help, as annoying as it is. These people... Walking corpses, dark magic. And that fool, Alistair. This Bann Teagan was family to him... I can not deny him aide._

"Today is your lucky day, Teagan. I'll help you defend the city, just tell me what to do." Darrian announced.


End file.
